


Hamartia

by uneffusive



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, French Revolution, Historical Inaccuracy, Tragedy, revengetragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2019-12-27 01:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 37,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18294224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uneffusive/pseuds/uneffusive
Summary: {FrenchRevolution!Luke} ❝Long live the revolution❞France is on the brink of war, the citizens are tired of the poverty and starvation plaguing the country. Luke Hemmings was a poor peasant, at the wrong place at the wrong time, when he gets involved with the Jacobin Club, an organization led by none other than Maximilian Robespierre, determined to take down the monarchy doing whatever it takes. With the help of Juliette Capet, former crown princess of France, Luke will bring down those responsible for wreaking havoc no matter the cost





	1. un.

**Author's Note:**

> This work holds historical inaccuracies although it is historically based

"Peoples do not judge in the same way as courts of law; they do not hand down sentences, they throw thunderbolts; they do not condemn kings, they drop them back into the void; and this justice is worth just as much as that of the courts." 

― Maximilien Robespierre 

He got caught stealing again. It was the third time in a week, from the same vendor at the same time. He should have known, but as usual he thought he could steal the baguette more stealthily and get away with it. Of course, the police chased him through the streets until eventually he was taken to the jail and thankfully not the prison. The same guard was always standing outside the cell meant for one, eating the baguette Luke had stolen right in front of him.

"You have impeccable taste, my friend. This baguette is to die for!" The man, who went by Olivier, exclaimed. He wiped the stray crumbs from his face while Luke continued to glare at him from inside the cell. He did not like this when he had barely eaten anything in days. The man's graying brown hair was concealed with a blonde wig that looked ridiculous atop his tanned head. The wig was much too large and a powder white that he had claimed on multiple occasions was a white blonde much like Marie Antoinette. 

"Yes and I would appreciate it if you would be so kind to at least share what I have stolen." Luke rolled his eyes and kicked the dirt stuck to the grimy cell floor. The bars were rusted and the bed nailed into the wall was literally just three wooden planks that Luke could barely fit onto. It was rather uncomfortable and Luke hated it, he was just waiting on Alphonse to bail him out. He had an inkling the older man, who was much like a father to him, was going to a take a while considering this was the third time had been thrown in jail. In fact, it was a miracle he hadn't been thrown in the bastille yet. 

"No can do, boy. Specific orders from the guard," He ate the last of the bread and Luke wanted to punch him in the throat. Luke had nothing and he hated watching others walk the Parisian streets freely and do whatever they please while he worked at a low end tavern and got paid in enough Francs to legally buy himself a small goblet of wine or maybe even one swig of whiskey. Bread prices had climbed in France due to the French monarchs declaring bankruptcy and now his measly wage couldn't even afford a single slice of bread. 

"Specific orders from the guard my arse," He grumbled as he kicked at the dirt on the cell floor. After the second time, he was threatened with being sentenced to the Bastille but with riots on the streets becoming an all-time high, that threat was forgotten and he ended up once again being in the company of Olivier. He figured surely this time he'd be thrown in the bastille but yet again he dealt with Olivier and watched the porky man chow down on the baguette as if he hadn't eaten in days. It was obvious Luke was incredibly malnutrioned if his clothes appeared much too large on his tall and what was once bulky stature, his cheek bones were starting to sink in his face and he was beginning to look like a walking skeleton. Occasionally Alphonse took pity on him and fed him scraps from the days business; but that was an exceedingly rare occasion. 

He needed to get out of here quickly, he had an important engagement he did not want to be late for. Katrine did not usually give second chances, and he did not want to blow it all because he was hungry and thought trying once again to steal bread when people could barely even afford it now was a good idea. Luke desperately wanted to get out of here and he could not bribe Olivier because the man would immediately report to the captain of the police, Gascon, who also happened to be Katrine's older brother.

She was supposed to marry rich, not be having an affair with someone as poor as Luke. She was not supposed to even associate with him but she did anyway. Luke thought she loved him, but she did not and he was too blind to even see it.

"Did you hear about Katrine's engagement to Maximillian Robespierre?" Oliver casually asked as he sipped from a bottle of wine, also stolen by Luke a few days ago. Luke had indeed heard of it, but he was not happy about it in the slightest. He was a lawyer and leader of the Jacobin Club, an organization that had repeatedly tried to get Luke to join by stealing important documents and other information that would be a reliable asset in bringing down the monarchy.

"How could I not? Gascon kisses his ass when he isn't making me suffer." Luke smiled grimly and started chewing the inside of his cheek in boredom. He smelt horrible, and the longer he waited on Adam to bail him out, the more he wanted to gag at his own smell from sitting in this cramped cell. Luke was much too tall and broad for such a small, confined area and one would think he would learn from stealing the first time.

Olivier laughed dryly and rolled his eyes while Luke merely huffed and crossed his arms. "Katrine would never fall for a commoner like you, then again you're much too poor to even be considered one." Luke glared at him, keeping his temper in enough check to not give him an obscene hand gesture or call him a dirty phrase in French. Olivier chuckled, leaning back in the chair and eyeing Luke with interest as he continued to clench his bony hands on the rusting bars and glare at him. 

"France is bankrupt, Olivier. We're all too poor to be called commoners these days." Luke gave Olivier a sarcastic smile, which the man returned with a rude hand gesture as if to say, fuck off. "Besides, working at Alphonse's tavern is my only option."

"I may have a job for you, but you have to stay out of trouble or I will have the carpet yanked out from under your feet quicker than you might think." Olivier yawned, pretending to be interested in a police report on a man caught having an affair with a peasant living in the Cour des Miracles. Oliver's words had immediately caught Luke's attention, as he jumped off the poorly made bench of rotting wood, clinging onto the bars. The bench rattled against the wall, one of the wood planks falling onto the floor and snapping in half, even though the fall wasn't even that high. Olivier acted as if it didn't even happen as he continued to read the report, as if making Luke wait in anticipation of a decent job was the funnest thing he had done all day; it probably was. 

"Where?" He said excitedly, Olivier putting down the parchment paper and smiling in satisfaction.

"You'll be working for Lady Juliette Capet, the daughter of the infamous royals. She needs protection on lying low, you're perfect for the job." Luke was appalled that was the job offer, he did not peg Olivier to be for the royals, he expected him to be like everyone else and side with the Jacobin Club and overthrow the royals. "Don't ask how I know about this or I will throw you in the Bastille without remorse."

Luke gulped and quickly nodded. "Thank you, sir."

Before Luke could open his mouth and saying anything, the door opened and Adam stepped in, cheeks flushed red on his pale face. His was skinny and about average height for a male his age, with much too long brown hair and brown eyes with the occasional splash of green with the right lighting. He was only sixteen and he made far much more money than Luke ever would, which made the older man envious. However Adam and his family had always been kind to Luke, offering him a place to stay multiple times and Luke could never end up hating Adam out of jealousy due to that. 

"Monsieur Moreau, how are you doing today?" Olivier exclaimed, clapping his hands together and rising from his seat. Adam smiled as he stepped more into the police office, closing the door behind him. He looked terrible as he shakily approached Olivier's desk, gripping onto the wooden corner for dear life. Luke stared at the younger man intently, watching his shaky movements as he chatted with Olivier.

"My boy, you look awful! What has happened to you?" Olivier then asked in concern.

"Monsieur Robespierre bought the tavern from Alphonse, he's completely changing it around and poor Alphonse can't find work elsewhere," Adam explained, Luke's heart sinking. He did not like Alphonse much, the man a distant relative of his deceased fathers who did not like Luke too much, always being rather harsh on him and giving him a mediocre pay. It was no wonder Luke would constantly turn to stealing just to survive in a country on the brink of going completely broke.

"Oh my stars, when did this happen?" Olivier practically sat on the edge of his seat, his sallow cheeks turning completely pale as the younger man told him the dreadful news. Luke wanted nothing more but to punch that no good Robespierre in the throat, he hated the man but the man had a way with words, Luke could not deny. On countless occasions, the man has tried to recruit Luke to be a part of the Jacobin Club and be almost like a spy, stealing important documents and the like, Luke declined many times but he was always close to saying yes.

"This morning, after the engagement party at the Versailles chateau," Adam answered and Luke clung onto the bars even tighter, his already pale knuckles turning a ghostly white. The party celebrating Katrine and Robespierre's engagement, how would she be able to sneak away to meet Luke during the midst of all the supposed excitement?

"You just wait, I'll tell the royals about this and Alphonse will get his tavern back!" Olivier had his hands balled into tight fists, his pale powdered face beet red. He was now standing, the plump man completely angry.

Luke scoffed, glad the other two men did not hear him. The royals were not going to do shit, they would just sit in their chateau and act like everything was fine because Alphonse's financial crisis' were minuscule in comparison to their lavish spending grandeur they bathed in daily due to their immense power, that was thankfully weakening, and money.

"They won't do anything about it, Olivier, but I appreciate it. Now, I was sent here to retrieve Luke before the evening gala we were invited to. Alphonse got Luke a job as a serving man," Adam smiled softly as Olivier nodded in understanding, grabbing the keys sitting on his desk and unlocking the barred cell.

Before Luke could take a step, Olivier got dangerously close and whispered, "Meet me by the Notre Dame tomorrow at dusk for more information." Luke nodded, pushing past the man and smiling gratefully at Adam. The two left the police office, walking down the Paris streets in complete silence.

"You need a bath before tonight you know," Adam remarked and Luke raised his arm, getting a horrid whiff of his armpits and crinkling his nose in disgust.

"You know, if I wasn't so poor it would be quite simple," Luke smiled dryly and Adam chuckled.

"You can use the bath at my family's estate, it's no trouble." Luke smiled appreciatively as the two continued walking. He did not know how Alphonse got Luke this job, even if it was one that probably was not going to pay much, but he still appreciated the thought nonetheless.

Luke and Adam parted ways, Luke heading towards the boating docks by the Seine. He was supposed to still have a stolen bottle of wine hidden somewhere in the stacks of hay laying on an abandoned cart. He tore through the hay stacks, desperately trying to find the bottle of wine, thankfully finding it moments later.

He climbed onto the cart, using his arm as a shield from the sun as he took a swig from the bottle. The sun was high in the sky, Luke having stolen the baguette before sunrise, yet he had still gotten caught. He finished the bottle, tossing it into the Seine, hearing the shout from some elderly man calling him a degenerate for nearly hitting the man with the bottle. Luke rolled his eyes in response.

He laid on the cart for a while longer, debating whether or not he should seek out Katrine before tonight's events. He was afraid the two would get caught by Robespierre and that things would end badly for the two of them, Luke more than Katrine. Katrine was of high status, Luke was not. The police would immediately throw Luke in the Bastille for being the reason that Katrine's reputation was tarnished, when she was the one who had Luke under her spell, making him always coming back for more when he knew it was wrong.

At long last, he decided to go. He walked down the dirty streets where littered feces, cardboard, hay, among other things both normal and disgusting lay in the streets. He admired his surroundings with the front of shops having paint peeling façades, yet business was booming, especially on Les Marais, where all the aristocrats of Paris gathered to gossip and buy luxury items many were too poor to afford.

He spotted the flower shop that Katrine's family owned a few ways down, and he immediately quickened his pace as he was overwhelmed with the excitement of seeing her. He threw open the rotting wooden door, causing Katrine to snap her head up from the letter she was writing. There was a hard set to her mouth as she looked at Luke completely unamused and rather annoyed.

"Is everything alright, my love?" Luke asked in concern, she did not look up from the letter she was writing, casually ignoring him in the process. Something was off with her today, and it was bugging Luke as to why she was treating him like this today.

"You aren't supposed to be here, it's broad daylight," She snapped, folding the letter after the ink had dried and placing it into an envelope that she sealed with what he thought was her seal, but ended up showing up as a waxy burgundy colored R.

"Broad daylight? Katrine we've had intercourse in the flower shop when it was broad daylight, don't give me that excuse," Luke said, grabbing the envelope from Katrine's hands. She gave him a look and fixed her red hair, that was already prim and proper, not a single hair out of place.

"Robespierre will be showing up any minute, you can't be here." She said through gritted teeth. Luke leaned over the counter, cupping her cheeks in his hands and kissing her; but she did not kiss back like usual. Instead she pulled away, shoving him away from her. "I said go away!" She shouted, causing Luke to flinch. Her rosy cheeks were flushed with anger, her cat green eyes burning holes through him. He did not think he had ever seen her this angry, especially at him.

"Katrine, he's no good for you! I thought you loved me!" He cried, desperate to get some sort of reaction from her but she gave him nothing but a blank stare and a clueless expression.

"Darling, no one would ever love someone as poor as you."


	2. deux.

Insurrection is the holiest of duties.

―Lafayette

The ink stained the paper, causing the man to swear loudly as the tipped bottle of ink continued to pour. He swatted the parchment paper with his handkerchief as if it was going to do something, ruining the pristine silky white cloth in his hand. He swore again just as the door of his office opened, a girl with white blonde hair and crystal blue eyes stepping in.

"Father, Monsieur Robespierre is waiting outside for you," She spoke in a meek voice, staring at her bare pale feet with her hands clasped firmly behind her back. Her blonde hair was down and not up like it should have been, nor was she dressed appropriately; still in a baby blue night dress.

"Juliette, we have guests coming in just a few hours you need to be dressed presentably. This is highly unacceptable," He said sternly, causing her cheeks to blush a rosy color. She nodded once and went to walk out the door before he stopped her. "Send him in." She nodded once more and closed the doors.

He let out a heavy sigh as he crumpled the parchment in his pudgy hands just as the doors opened once more. The man, who gave Louis a rather large headache after each visit, regarded him politely and paced back and forth with his hands clasped behind him. He looked as if he was about to plead an argument, and Louis would not be surprised if he was because that was always the reason he was here.

"I wanted to thank you for your graciousness in letting me and my soon-to-be wife Katrine use the palace this afternoon." He started off, but Louis just knew things were going to turn completely around. He had a way with words, Louis had fallen under his influence countless times before leading the country into bankruptcy and each time he would kick himself and say he would never do it again only to repeat past mistakes.

"It was my pleasure, how may I—" Robespierre held his hand up, pausing briefly in front of Louis's desk to stare right at the man, retaining proper eye contact. Louis felt his skin crawl as the man kept his hand up, not uttering a single word.

"Listen, I need to use the finest tavern in all of France and I want you to pay for it and I would also like you to not let that bastard Luke Hemmings cater to the ball as a servant," He finally spoke, chills going down Louis's spine but he needed to get a backbone and say no. However, Louis did not know who this Luke Hemmings Robespierre mentioned is. He gave Robespierre a confused expression, causing the man to let out a loud sigh.

"He's the one who was hired at the request of Monsieur Adam Moreau and Monsieur Alphonse Dubois," He explained with an airily dismissive wave of the hand. Louis nodded once in understanding as the man continued to rant about how much he hated Luke Hemmings and how he should not be allowed to work tonight. Louis only hired Luke tonight because Alphonse had pleaded with him to let young man have a chance at making some decent money that would likely afford him a decent meal. 

"I will not back out on this, he will be working tonight whether you like it or not, Robespierre," Louis said sternly, but his body language had failed him as his chin wobbled and his hands shook underneath the desk and Robespierre had seen, causing him to scoff in annoyance as if he could not believe the king of France behaved like a five year old child who had just gotten scolded.

"Right because an incompetent fool who drove this country into the ground should be a great judge of character," Robespierre spat, his tone laced with venomous sarcasm. Louis did not know what else to say so he stared at his shaking hands resting in his lap, completely defeated. He had always been told by his great-grandfather that he was exceedingly weak willed and that he would fail France and bring it down to its destruction. 

Robespierre smirked at this, knowing he had the upper hand and always would be. On the other side of the door, Juliette sat outside with her knees pulled up to her chin, listening intently. She could hear the fear in her father's voice as the monster inside taunted and manipulated him, bringing down his already low self-esteem. She could never quite understand why her father would allow this man to come into his office and do and say whatever he pleased, the majority of the country already hated her family.

"Juliette, quit listening to your father's private matters," Her mother snapped, coming into view in full powder with her white blonde hair prim and proper, pink lace dress perfectly frilled and laced. She bore a hard expression as Juliette looked down in shame.

"He's being manipulated in there and I just can't stand it!" She grimaced, her mother simply rolling her eyes as she was used to her husband letting people walk all over him. Juliette rose to her feet and dusted off her night dress, staring at her feet while her mother stood a few feet away fanning herself as if she was under so much stress. Marie's stress would never compare to the stress her father was under, her mother just wasted the country's money to fuel her own desires and behaved like a socialite instead of a queen. 

"It's his fault for letting that bastard in here," Her mother chided, "Now come and get yourself ready, our guests should be arriving soon." Marie sharply turned on her heel, barking after Juliette's personal servant Adelaide to come and get her ready.

"Yes, mother," She said quietly, knotting her hands together as Adelaide came into view. 

Adelaide tied up her carrot orange hair, smiling helplessly at Juliette. She was much older than Juliette, being more or so around her mother's age and being the true maternal figure in her life. Adelaide practically raised Juliette, due to the fact her parents were busy meddling in the Revolutionary War over in America as well as fussing over the French colonies stationed over there for the longest time; for a while it seemed that was all they had ever cared about. 

"Come on, love, let's go get you dressed." She placed a hand tenderly on Juliette's back, guiding her towards her personal suite. Juliette felt mildly uncomfortable knowing she'd be expected to put on a show like she truly loved the citizens of France, even though they'd rather see her head on a pike while they danced around her severed head. 

Juliette entered her suite, taking a seat on the white embroided stool. Adelaide combed her fingers gently through Juliette's hair, humming a tune as she did so. The two sat in complete silence while Adelaide did her hair. 

"Adelaide, do you think my father's okay?" Juliette asked after a while of contemplation. Adelaide paused, giving Juliette a funny look through the mirror. Half of Juliette's hair was falling out of Adelaide's grasp, but it was as if the older woman was surprised by Juliette's question. 

"Why on earth are you wondering that?" Adelaide returned to securing Juliette's curls with pins, making sure her hair was off of her neck. The door to Juliette's suite opened and two more servants entered, carrying two dresses for Juliette to wear that looked too much and not to mention incredibly hot and uncomfortable. 

"I was just asking," Juliette murmured, eyeing the dresses as Adelaide slipped Juliette into her corset. 

She tightened it a little too much, causing Juliette to gasp for air as if she couldn't breathe. "Well, you don't need to worry about your father he's doing just fine." Adelaide responded, taking a royal blue ball gown from one of the newer servants, Louise. She held up for Juliette to see, who gave her a tight lipped smile as she grew frustrated with having no one to talk to here. 

She slipped into the dress as Adelaide tightened and adjusted it before stepping in front of her, eyeing Juliette as if she was some sort of prize. Adelaide clapped her hands together and beamed, "You look stunning, my dear." 

Juliette smiled uncomfortably in response, the corset feeling itchy against her skin. The dress was considered elegant, but it was hot and uncomfortable and the royal blue washed out her already pale skin. She glanced at the other dress, a beautiful lavender one that looked a lot slimmer and not as suffocating. 

The door opened once more, this time Marie entering and eyeing her daughter up and down. "The guests have arrived, come at once." Marie turned towards Adelaide. "Are her corsets laced properly?" 

Adelaide nodded at once. "Yes, my queen. I double checked to make sure everything was in order." 

Marie turned back towards Juliette, her eyes scanning her daughter again. "She doesn't look slim enough, obviously her corset isn't tight enough." Juliette resisted the urge to sigh from sheer annoyance as her mother sharply turned on her heel and left the room. 

Adelaide gave Juliette a knowing look, as she and Louis took Juliette out of the royal blue gown and tightened the corsets even tighter than before. Juliette wheezed as she felt like all her air had been deflated from her lungs, Adelaide guiding her towards the vanity mirror. "Does it feel tight enough, madam?" 

Juliette smiled weakly, the corset feeling as if it was constricting her ribs and hips much too tight to be natural. "I can't breathe, so that's a sign it should be tight enough for my mother's demands." 

Adelaide gently patted Juliette's shoulder. "I'm sorry, madam. We should get you back in your dress before you mother becomes irate with us for taking too long." 

~

The guests arrived quicker than Juliette had anticipated. She stood at the banister, overlooking the entirety of the party anxiously as she spotted Katrine and Robespierre immediately. Servants carried platters loaded with glasses of the finest wines and champagnes in all of France and hors d'oeuvres, the big feast has not yet started.

Juliette wore a royal blue ball gown, and the corset was laced much too tightly and she gasped every time she breathed. She felt uncomfortable being in a room where the majority hated them, and the only reason they even stepped foot inside the palace was because of Katrine and Robespierre.

"Are you not going to make your way down and enjoy the party?" Her mother asked, nearly startling her.

She glanced at her mother, who casually fanned herself as if it was much too hot inside the palace when nearly every window was open to let in the fresh fall air. "Maybe later." She clasped her gloved hands together, resting them on the railing of the stair case.

Her mother scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Must you always be such a prude? Nearly all of France hates us enough already."

"Mother, he let them manipulate him into using our palace. Why must he never have any backbone when it comes to them?" Juliette narrowed an eyebrow while her mother rolled her eyes once more, as if this conversation was boring her.

"Who's fault is that then, hmm? Certainly, not ours so come enjoy the party and put on a pretty smile, people are starting to stare, darling," Marie put on a fake smile, walking down the stair case and chatting with those who frequently came to the palace for meetings with Juliette's father.

She did not want to be here, but she did not want to face the wrath of her mother or put her family to more shame than they already were. Juliette stood near the musicians, making small talk with the passing waiters and taking as many glasses of champagne as she could without catching the attention of her mother for "being impolite."

"Enjoying the champagne?" A voice asked, Juliette looking up and seeing a man holding a tray. He had overgrown blonde hair and blue eyes and just may have been the tallest person she had ever seen. The tray he held in his hands was completely empty and she almost questioned why he did not go to the kitchens to get more but she bit her tongue and decided not to ask.

"A bit," She replied simply, taking another delicate sip out of the glass, her silk gloved hands making the glass feel slippery. Juliette decided she would keep conversation light and simple, not wanting a complex conversation attracting the attention of her mother who was obsessed with the ideals of being an uptight royal family. Her father on the other hand, was more about kindness and helping France reach a level of prosperity for all people. Sometimes, Juliette did wonder why France hated her family so.

"Not interacting with the guests of honor I see." The man mused, hitting right on the marker. Juliette paid him no mind, not wanting to be rude but not wanting her mother to snap at him for not continuing to do his job.

"I'd rather die than say one word to them," She responded, finishing the champagne while staring down Robespierre and Katrine. The man stared at them also, but Juliette caught his eye and saw the man wearing a pained expression while looking at Robespierre's bride to be.

The man slowly walked away, all the while staring at Katrine and did not say another word to Juliette. She continued to stand in the corner before her mother strode over with Adam and another man she did not know in tow.

"Juliette! You must meet Hugo; he belongs to an incredibly rich family just outside of Paris!" Her mother exclaimed, gesturing to the rather short fellow behind her.

He had dark hair and russet eyes, and he slouched more than anyone Juliette had ever seen. She forced a smile, and shook the man's hand in fear of looking incredibly rude. Juliette was not interested in marriage, she has told her mother this on countless occasions, but her mother never seems to listen to her wishes anyways.

"Pleasure to meet you," She said with a tight-lipped smile.

"The pleasure is all mine," Hugo replied, only he was not smiling and his voice was dry and void of any emotion. She was starting to wonder what exactly her mother's intentions were. Juliette gave Adam a questioning look, but he only shrugged his shoulders as if he was not sure either.

"Well, I hope you enjoy the party," Juliette said, as she walked past them.

She walked out into the gardens, each hedge perfectly pruned and a nice pleasing lush green. A few guests were out here, enjoying the gorgeous beauty of the gardens when young couples were not snogging to their hearts content. Juliette slipped off her heels, walking barefoot along the paths of the groves deep in the gardens. The sun was dipping below the horizon and everything felt so peaceful in that moment. She continued for a little more, the sun completely set and she had nothing but the moon and stars in the big sky above for company.

She began to wonder what her mother was doing, wondering if she was still trying to set her up with another aristocratic gentleman. Juliette had told her parents on countless occasions she did not wish to be married, she wanted to rule France on her own if she to. Although her mother began to laugh, saying women were to be seen not heard and that only a man could take the throne by the horns and rule France properly. Juliette had felt belittled, she then insisted women could do just as much as men without them and that she could easily rule France herself. This argument had earned her a slap from her mother, telling her to get rid of her idealistic dreams and focus on being a lady first, then that she needed to focus on marrying and bearing children.

"When is the next meeting? Robespierre told me you'd tell me tonight," a voice spoke further up the path. Juliette stopped walking, ducking behind a tree wanting to catch wind of the conversation up ahead.

"Keep your voice down, you third rate!" a voice whisper shouted.

She peered around the tree, trying to catch sight of the men up ahead but could only see their shadowy figures. One was of average height, and had a bit of muscular build while the other was shorter and a bit lankier. She could not decipher their voices enough to try and guess to see if she knew who the voices belonged to. Instead she listened, hoping to see what kind of plans Robespierre was trying to enact now.

"Sorry," the voice of the shorter man mumbled.

"Did you try and talk to that Hemmings boy? Robespierre wants to recruit him immediately, keep a tight leash on him," the voice of the taller man spoke.

Juliette watched the shorter man quickly shake his head, the taller one sighing and likely rolling his eyes. "Incompetent fool, you know Robespierre gave you this job because it should have been fairly simple!"

"I'm sorry! He was by Lady Juliette earlier this evening and I didn't want to interrupt!" the other man exclaimed, yelping a few seconds later as the tall man likely smacked him; Juliette could not make out much in the darkness.

"What the fuck does Lady Juliette have to do with anything? She's a woman for Christ's sake, she wouldn't catch on!" the man said in a frustrated tone, and Juliette could slightly make out him running his hands through his hair in frustration.

"I'll go back inside and carry out my job, I swear this time I will! Don't tell Robespierre I failed the first time, please Gascon, I'm begging you!" the shorter man was on his knees in front of who Juliette now knew was Gascon.

"Fine, make sure Luke Hemmings is at that meeting at the Notre Dame tomorrow night." Gascon stalked off, coming closer to the tree Juliette was at before he turned around and added, "Or else."

After the two men went separate ways, both walking past Juliette in the shadows as if nothing had happened, Juliette was left to wonder. Why are they meeting at the Notre Dame? Are they trying to usurp the royal family and lead a revolt against them?


	3. trois.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke Hemmings gets involved in a situation that appears to be more than he initially bargained for

"I have a proposition for you," said a man dressed in the finest clothes Luke had ever seen. His curled bright red hair was subtly tied into a loose ponytail with a white ribbon, and he carried himself highly as if he was placed on a pedestal. He must have been sent here by Robespierre, because most of the aristocrats have steered clear of the servants at the party so far.

"A proposition?" Luke said in mock disbelief, although he had been expecting it. It had been a week since Robespierre sent someone to recruit him, and it felt a little odd to wander the Paris streets freely without a random man dressed finely randomly start talking to him in hushed tones.

"How would you like to be responsible for a great change in France?" the man said, leaning in closer to Luke and cautiously looking around. Luke rolled his eyes, easily brushing past the man without another word. However, this man was persistent as he followed Luke throughout the Versailles chateau.

"If you would kindly take the hint, I would rather be left alone please and thank you." Luke groaned, turning around to face the man who had been pestering him for the last half hour.

"Ah, but I highly suggest you do so on your own free will before we take matters into our own hands," the man suggested lightly.

Luke walked away from him again, pushing himself into a crowd of people dancing along to the musicians playing a soft melody onstage. He broke apart several couples dancing in attempts to get away from the man, who continued to follow Luke. He had to give the man credit, he had perseverance if he was continuing to follow him throughout the chateau.

Luke did not want to be a part of any of the political propaganda surrounding the royal family and the revolution; all of it was complete bullshit. No one was happy with anything, Louis even tried to host a meeting to help resolve France's deep-seeded issues, but as usual the aristocrats held the majority which in turn pissed off the minority.

He turned his head, looking for any sight of the man with the bright red hair. When he did not see him, Luke snuck up the flight of stairs as an extra precaution. He knew he might not even get paid at this point, even though Adam and Alphonse had somehow got him this job in the first place.

The upper floor of the chateau was filled with marble busts of the previous kings of France and expensive paintings hung on the walls; it was a wonder none of it had been stolen so far. Fancy wine-colored drapes covered the open windows, the wonderful fall breeze entering the chateau. Luke walked around in awe, completely forgetting about the man trying to follow him and the job he had yet to finish. As he continued walking through the upper floor, making sure to be as quiet in his step as possible, he noticed the only people besides him up here were those who were trying to keep a romance that was forbidden a secret.

He was trying to keep himself busy and occupied, while he waited it out until he was sure the man would not pester him once more. He admired the paintings on the walls, seeing how much detail was put into them and how it must have taken a long while.

"What are you doing up here?" A voice asked, he immediately recognized the voice as Adam's and he began to be slightly confused as to why the younger boy was up here.

Luke shrugged in response, not sure if he wanted to fire the question back at Adam or explain the real reason as to why he was up here. He decided silence was the better option, but the younger boy did not like that idea. The younger boy quirked an eyebrow, stepping closer with his hands enclosed behind his back. "No response then, eh?"

"Not necessarily, you see I'm debating what to tell you in all honesty," Luke then said, continuing to admire the paintings whilst avoiding all eye-contact.

Adam hummed in response, standing next to Luke. The painting was of Lady Juliette Capet, and it was one of the only paintings hanging on the walls upstairs the absence of her parents' paintings making Luke slightly curious as to where they were.

"Then I am going to assume that you don't trust me," Adam said finally, looking at Luke from the corner of his eye.

"I do, it's just everything is rather...complicated." Luke paused in his words, worried as to what Adam's next response was going to be.

"Everything always seems to be rather complicated with you these days, huh?" Adam teased, but it took Luke a moment to realize the younger boy was only teasing.

Luke laughed, scratching the back of his head and looking around to match sure the red-haired man was nowhere to be found. When he did not see anyone else besides the snogging couples and Adam, he sighed about to explain. "You see, I'm kind of caught up in this romance with a woman per se, who's engaged to a man who hates my guts."

Adam did not say anything for a few moments, as if he was trying to take in of the little bit Luke had shared. Luke began to worry, wondering if the boy was beginning to judge him. "Ah, I see. Does this woman happen to be Katrine?" He looked sideways at Luke again, as Luke began to fidget to divert his attention while he calmed himself down. He did not expect Adam to guess it so quickly, but then he assumed he was not as secretive as he once thought.

"You knew?" Luke said instead, looking quizzically at the boy.

Adam laughed, throwing his head back. "Of course, I knew! You take me for a fool, old man?"

He then looked away, trying to formulate another response. He did not take Adam for a fool, he just assumed the younger boy who had achieved so much at a bright, young age simply did not pay attention to the peasant who worked for meager pay. "Course not, I just assumed..." He trailed off, seeing Katrine walk up the steps with a handsome server in tow, Robespierre nowhere to be found. "If you'll excuse me for a second."

Katrine was giggling, walking into one of the private suites of the chateau with the server following close behind. Luke's heart shattered into pieces for the second time that day, seeing that the girl he loved was faithful to no one. He stood there for a few moments, staring at the closed door the separated him from his now ex-lover.

"Come on, you should probably go back to the party, so you can earn your money's worth," Adam lightly suggested, gently placing a hand on Luke's shoulder. Luke did not notice the boy who had been standing there for a few moments.

"Um, I appreciate the job, but I think I'm going to find a place to stay tonight." Luke smiled apologetically, pushing the boy aside and taking an alternate route down to the main floor.

People were loitering around in the somewhat abandoned hallway he walked down, stealing more champagne from the kitchens and even some more sweets. It was funny how the servers did not even notice how much food was missing, as a rather plump man sat somewhat nestled in-between a staircase and a marble bust with an entire platter of cheese to himself. Luke wanted to laugh but refrained himself as he exited the chateau.

Typically, Luke slept in empty barns, nestled in the haystacks until dawn the next morning. It was too expensive to afford a decent home, so Luke often slept in different places around Paris. Once he spent a night in the la cour des miracles, but after witnessing a man saw off his own leg in exchange for money, he never slept there again. He was horrified at the thought that one day he would wake up missing a limb all because some fellow peasant wanted money.

He continued walking down the streets, which were surprisingly empty. He could hear the Seine in the distance, and just as he began walking alongside it, he watched a woman missing a hand wash it off in the water. The already murky walked turned red, and Luke immediately gagged, already knowing what the woman had done. Luke was desperate, but he was not desperate enough to saw off a limb.

Eventually, Luke found an empty bench in a local garden to sleep at for the night. He curled into a ball on the bench, listening to the babbling fountain and admiring the moonlit glow upon the freshly planted flowers. It was rather peaceful, although the bench was quite uncomfortable. Soon enough, he lightly dozed off.

~

"What the fuck are we supposed to do with him?" a voice harshly whispered.

Luke felt himself being jostled around, but when he opened his eyes, he had discovered he was blindfolded. He wanted to say something, scream, and begin kicking but he was powerless. He felt the presence of three other men, besides the one that had already spoken as they tossed him into what he assumed to be a cart. Haystacks poked into his back and he groaned.

"I thought you drugged him!" a voice accused, Luke recognized the voice to belong to Gascon, Katrine's elder brother.

"We got banned from the local apothecary because of Robespierre, I couldn't get anything," a voice snapped.

Only two voices have spoken so far, and the second voice belonged to the red-haired man who had pestered him that evening. The other three men have yet to speak, and Luke was curious of their identities. He felt the cart begin to move, unaware of his surroundings and only the jostling of the cart and the sound of hooves on cobblestone. He began to nearly panic, feeling his throat and chest tighten from being unable to see anything even though this was to be expected. He declined the man's attempts to get him to join the Jacobin Club, and he had been warned that matters would be taken into the Jacobin Club's hands. What Luke did not expect, was for it to happen so quickly.

"Why must you always blame every problem we face on Robespierre?" Gascon asked the other man, and both men were sitting eerily close to Luke.

"He takes his power to the extreme, Gascon. It's appalling that he hasn't killed the king and assumed the throne already." The other man snorted.

"Shut the fuck up, Arno," Gascon sneered.

The cart was still moving, and Luke just wanted it to stop already. He felt like he was about to vomit, due to always getting motion sickness. He was counting the time he had been moving: eight minutes and forty-five seconds. Suddenly, the cart stopped, Luke lurching forward.

"Grab him!" Gascon hollered, as he and Arno both held Luke still.

The took the cloth off his eyes and Luke was face-to-face with Robespierre. "Excellent work, gentlemen." His smiled crookedly, his yellow teeth shining prominently in the moonlight. Luke was fucked.


	4. quatre.

The old barn was empty. Luke was still feeling incredibly nauseated from the cart ride, his surroundings spinning around him. Robespierre sat atop a bale of hay, looking at him distastefully while Gascon and Arno stood on either side of him. Luke curled into a ball, although he was much too tall and broad and rather looked like a lump on the ground.

"Feeling alright?" Gascon asked, even though Luke could tell Gascon could not care less how the man felt.

Luke rolled his eyes, clutching his stomach as he focused on the weeds appearing between the poorly placed wooden planks on the ground. The three men in front of him barely paid him any mind, as he felt as if he was going to vomit. He did not even know why he was here exactly, but rather had an inkling.

"You're trying to recruit me, aren't you?" Luke gasped, taking deep breaths to calm the nauseating feeling in his stomach that was finally beginning to die down. Gascon merely stared at Luke while Robespierre and Arno were having a light conversation.

Robespierre looked back at Luke, clearing his throat before beginning to speak, "So you denied Arno's attempts at getting you to join, yes?"

"No shit," Luke grunted, slowly sitting up into a proper sitting position. The world spun for a moment, before he slowly gained focus again. "Fuck." He grabbed the side of his head in pain, taking several shallow breaths.

"Do you need to go to the apothecary and get something?" Gascon walked towards Luke, pausing in front of him in a crouching position. Luke waved the man away, wanting to shout thousands of curse words at the man to leave him alone.

"Luke, let me tell you something." Robespierre glared at him, hopping down onto the ground with ease. He paced back and forth in the barn for a few moments, as if he was contemplating what exactly he was going to say. "I know you've been fooling around with my wife."

Luke's face whitened, realizing that maybe Katrine had said something to Robespierre. "H-how?" He stuttered, still clutching his stomach while the nausea slowly subsided.

Robespierre laughed darkly, getting into Luke's face. "You take me for a fool? I have eyes everywhere you loiter-sack."

Luke sighed, leaning against the barn door and merely staring at the man in front of him. "If you really had eyes everywhere, you'd have known she sleeps around with a bunch of servants from the Versailles Chateau." He smiled in satisfaction, seeing Robespierre stop for a mere fraction of a second to register the words Luke just uttered out of his mouth.

Robespierre balled his hands into tight fists, the whites of his hands becoming prominent around the knuckles. Gascon and Arno walked up behind him, with their arms crossed tightly while staring at Luke, void of any sort of emotion. Then the three men started kicking, causing Luke to officially puke all over the ground.

They backed away in disgust, leaving the man to lie down on the floor looking helpless. His motion sickness was awful, and he needed time to recuperate. He instantly felt better, and he finally stood up, wiping his mouth with his arm. He may have ruined the nicest shirt he's worn in a while, but for now it did not matter.

"What the fuck do you even want with me?" He demanded, becoming angry.

"Join us, be a part of the great change happening around France," Robespierre spoke simply, causing Luke to roll his eyes.

"I don't want to get involved in anything that can get me killed, alright?" He answered gruffly, staggering to his feet. The three men rolled their eyes, slowly getting annoyed by the poor man's behavior. They watched intently as the taller man just glared at them, drenched in sweat and vomit. Luke just wanted them to let him leave, but that was not happening.

"It won't get you killed if more than half of France hates the bloody royalists and the royals themselves," Gascon interject before Robespierre could speak. Luke knew it would all eventually backfire, which was why he declined Arno's offer at the party. The three men in front of him seemed intent on getting him to join, no matter what it took.

"Monsieur, I noticed that you were in dire need of a proper job and home, yes?" Arno inquired, seeming to be taking the approach of bribery. Although Luke was desperate, he was not desperate enough to take their offer.

"Maybe so, but I will never join you," He snarled. Arno looked taken aback, looking to both Robespierre and Gascon for assistance. Robespierre rolled his eyes, pulling a revolver out of the pocket of his waist coat with a scoff.

"You will if you want to leave here alive." The shorter man had the revolver aimed at Luke's forehead, using both hands to steady the gun whilst he stared at Luke with an emotionless expression.

"I will not be threatened into the joining you." Luke rolled his eyes, crossing his arms with a sigh.

Robespierre changed his position, aiming the gun at the wall next to Luke's head and fired. The bullet pierced through the wood holding the barn together, the sound startling Luke, who remained standing in place. He looked at Robespierre, horrified at what the man had just done. "What the hell?" Luke exclaimed, his mouth agape.

"Join us, or that bullet will be shot through your head." Robespierre spoke coolly, his icy blue eyes staring straight at Luke with a fiery intensity.

Luke stood there for a moment, contemplating if accepting this offer before he was shot was even a good idea. He knew it was not, but what other choice did he have besides death? He sighed, looking Robespierre dead in the eye. "Fine."

~

The next morning Luke found himself outside the jail. He stared at the cracked wooden door, wondering if after having to forcefully join the Jacobin Club (or rather becoming their servant) doing this job was even worth it. After all, he'd have to be dealing with the princess and be her guard at almost all times. With a sigh, he went ahead and opened the door.

Olivier was sitting at his desk, his portly legs placed on the desk as he leaned back with his eyes closed. Luke rolled his eyes with a slight smile upon his lips. He glanced at the cramped cell in the corner of his eye, remembering how he was stuck in there just a couple of days ago.

"Sleeping on the job, eh?" Luke said, hitting his clenched fist on the desk. Olivier woke up, startled.

"Just resting my eyes, what do you even need?" Olivier yawned, stretching his chubby arms above his head. His greying hair was tousled, or what little he had left, from his nap. He looked like he was a beggar on the streets instead of a somewhat well-respected police officer.

"The job you informed me of a few days ago, you never gave me any further instructions," Luke answered as Olivier scratched his head in confusion. Figures the old man had forgotten about their conversation after Luke had been arrested a couple days ago. "You know what, never mind this was a terrible idea."

"Oh! I remember now! Wait, don't leave just yet!" Luke was just a couple paces from the door when he turned around, looking at the old man somewhat leaning over the desk. He sighed again, for what felt like the millionth time that day as he walked back to the desk. "I never did give you any further instructions, did I?"

"You didn't, but I was just at the chateau last night. Was I supposed to say something to Marie or Louis?" Luke inquired, placing both hands on the desk and practically towering over the smaller man.

"No no, I was supposed to send them a letter. What were you even doing there last night?" Olivier grabbed a quill and his ink bottle, the quill scratching across the parchment paper in front of him.

"Adam Moreau gave me a serving job there last night. I didn't get paid of course but still," Luke answered as Olivier continued writing on the parchment paper. The old man hummed in response, sealing the parchment paper with a wax seal. He handed it to Luke, giving the man a slight smile in return.

"Bring this to either Marie or Louis, they'll know." The old man closed the ink bottle, looking up to see Luke still there before shooing him away.

"Thank you so much, Monsieur," He said gratefully, closing the door behind him. He smiled, genuinely happy for the first time in a while, even though doing this as well as being Robespierre's bastard could get him killed.

The streets were busy, as the riots in France began to worsen and the hunger continued, the people of France were getting more and more restless. The third estate of France constantly badgered the second and first estate for money on the streets as if the entire community came from the Cour des Miracles. Starving children huddled in alley ways, the sounds of their empty stomachs resonating down the streets and Luke felt awful. Although, he was a peasant just like many people in France, but he stole food from unsuspecting vendors and yet whenever he stole from a one there was always someone to rat him out. Business were beginning to crumble, as the taxing from the Roman Catholic church increased putting those in peasantry into bankruptcy just like the rest of the country.

He made his way down several streets, walking along the Seine river in silence. The murky brown water lapped against the side of the bridge he walked on, the smell of human feces and homeless peasants filling the air. Luke could not quite complain about the smell, after all he did not have a place to live either and sometimes slept by the Seine after taking a bath. He was headed to Versailles, hoping to catch Marie or Louis and get the job without being stopped by one of Robespierre's men.

He was nearly to the Versailles Chateau when he was stopped by one of the guards. Luke looked behind him, making sure no one in the Jacobin Club was around to recognize him. "I was sent to deliver a letter to the King and Queen by Olivier." He swallowed, waiting for the guards to do something or for someone to recognize him and report him to Robespierre and Gascon, but nothing happened. The guards looked at one another, nodding in understanding and opening the gates.

Luke walked inside, noticing one of outer walls of the chateau splattered in pigs' blood, saying "Go to hell bloody royalists." A chilling feeling running down Luke's spine as he looked at it. He stopped and stared longer than he should have, and he had to force himself to keep walking. He then began to wonder if someone had written it during Robespierre and Katrine's party, and then wondered how no one had noticed and tried to scrub it off.

"Olivier sent you?" A voice asked from the doors of the chateau. It was Marie Antoinette, with her white blonde hair let down and in an evening gown. Luke walked forward, after bowing out of courtesy and nodding his head. She let him inside, leading him into the parlor.

"I'm surprised you took Olivier up on the offer," She said, taking a sip of tea and looking at Luke with interest. Luke laughed nervously, still wondering if this was even a good decision on his part, yet something in the back of his mind told him he needs this.

"I'm still kind of surprised myself." Luke gingerly ate a scone Marie offered, not wanting to chow it down immediately even though he was starving. She continued to stare at him, as if she was debating something and Luke became nervous.

"You aren't one of Robespierre's spies, are you?" She inquired, quirking an eyebrow while she nonchalantly spread out on the couch.

"No, Madam." He answered immediately, his heartbeat racing while he remained as emotionless as a rock. He swallowed, awaiting her next response but she said nothing and rose from her couch.

"I'll go fetch my husband and daughter, please be patient." She smiled tightly, leaving him alone in silence with the only sound being the crackling of the fire in the hearth. He grabbed another scone when he was sure he was alone and ate it quickly. He was tempted to eat all the scones on the platter in front of him, but he refrained from doing so.

He was not alone very long, when the door to the parlor opened and Louis, Marie, and Juliette entered. The three of them sat across from Luke. Louis kindly shook his hand while Juliette meekly smiled. He had already met her at the party the night before, and he wondered if she still remembered him even though they had only spoken last night.

"Olivier sent him, he delivered us this letter." Marie handed her husband the letter, branded with Olivier's seal. He opened it, scanning the letter and nodding.

"So, the search if over then, yes?" He looked at his wife, awaiting a final decision. She merely nodded, finishing her tea while Juliette fiddled with her hands in her lap. Luke was not exactly sure what to do or how exactly to thank them when really it was Olivier who got him the job.

"Thank you for this opportunity," He finally said, shaking Louis's hand once more.

"No need to thank me, my boy. All I request is that you keep my daughter safe." Luke nodded immediately in understanding, looking around at the paintings on the walls. Most of the paintings were of the royal family, and then some were those painted by Jacques Louis David who was a celebrated artist around France. He was feeling slightly uncomfortable as the royal family continued to stare at him with wonder and curiosity.

"How would you like to live here awhile? We'll give you fresh clothes and a warm bed, and promise to feed you meals," Louis offered, looking at Luke's disgusting vomit and sweat stained clothes from the night before.

"That's very kind of you, but I couldn't impose on your lifestyle," Luke politely declined, wondering if Robespierre would send out a manhunt for him had he accepted the offer.

"Nonsense, please stay." Marie smiled brightly, playing with the expensive jewelry hung around her neck. Juliette, however, remained silent and only offered Luke a small smile.

Luke contemplated the offer again, already knowing he was in deep shit for being here right now with Robespierre. If staying here meant he would not have to deal with Robespierre and his men, would he still have to deal with them after all? Fuck it, Luke thought before smiling at the king and queen. "Why not?"


	5. cinq.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robespierre's insanity is revealed

Robespierre paced back and forth in the Notre-Dame. Gascon and Arno watched him, both sitting in the front row of pews while Robespierre paced in angry silence. "Why the fuck has he not shown up yet? No one has seen the bastard in days!"

Gascon sighed, looking at Robespierre with remorse. He did not have an answer either, although he and Arno had been tasked with finding Luke Hemmings and bringing him to Robespierre as soon as possible. "I'm not exactly sure, Monsieur. Should we do something about it?" Gascon offered, hoping the man would not be crazy enough to bring up murder as an option.

He was going power hungry, and everyone noticed it. Robespierre had Louis wrapped around his finger, manipulating the poor man into doing his bidding whenever he wanted. The royals were not even vanquished yet, and Robespierre already had plans for France after he thwarted them. It was alarming, and scary because Gascon could see that something was deeply wrong with Robespierre. If France fell into his hands, the place would become a bloodbath.

"Not yet, I'll give him a few more days," Robespierre dismissed Gascon's remarked with a dismissive wave of the hand. He continued to pace while Gascon and Arno's eyes followed him. "The audacity that bastard has, ignoring me like that!" He gritted his teeth and balled his hands into fists. His face had begun to turn cherry red, as his anger reached a boiling point.

"Monsieur, no one has seen him in days!" Arno rose to his feet, trying to calm Robespierre down as best he could. Robespierre shoved him away.

"That fucker should've known the responsibilities he'd now have!" He bellowed, his voice echoing around the practically empty cathedral. Gascon leaned back in surprise, now seeing how much this all had bothered him. Although the three of them had bullied Luke into joining them, he would have never expected Robespierre to get this angry over it. What did that man have that was so precious to Robespierre and his success? He was just a homeless peasant.

"Monsieur, please calm down! It's terrible for your health." Arno tried getting closer again, but more cautiously this time. Robespierre sighed, sitting down beneath the altar and taking deep breaths. Arno sat down next to him, with a hand on the man's shoulder while he talked calmly.

Gascon was not exactly sure what to do, so he remained seated. Robespierre looked up at him. "What do you propose we do say he doesn't show up?" Robespierre inquired, much calmer than moments before.

Gascon's eyes widened, not expecting Robespierre to ask him what to do when he makes all the decisions anyways. He was not exactly sure himself, to be quite honest. "I haven't thought that far, you are the brains of this operation after all." Robespierre might see Gascon's statement as a compliment, but Gascon intended sarcasm as he slowly became more and more annoyed with Robespierre. Arno was an ass kisser, through and through so he would survive.

"You are quite right, dear Gascon." He gave Gascon a tight-lipped smile, to which Gascon returned while his stomach churned. He could not believe this man was the one who married his sister, although she was a whore. "Gentlemen, shall we call a meeting tonight?"

Arno nodded, Gascon going along with Arno although he had prior engagements tonight. Hopefully the meeting did not last long, and he could return home peacefully without the company of Robespierre for a night or two.

"Gascon, skip the meeting because I want you to find Luke and his whereabouts," Robespierre demanded, causing Gascon to desperately want to roll his eyes but instead he nodded like the loyal soldier he was. "If you don't find him, your head shall be on the guillotine." Robespierre cackled madly, causing the hair on Gascon's arms to raise as a chill ran down his spine.

"Sir, what guillotine?" Gascon furrowed his eyebrows, trying to trace back to a time when it was mentioned before but he had come up empty.

"You know, the guillotine we agreed to use on the royals? Were you not at the meeting that night? We discussed it over with Dr. Joseph-Ignace Guillotin? Jesus Christ, Gascon, don't be so daft," Robespierre snapped, growing agitated.

Gascon ignored Robespierre, pretending to listen and nodding his head in agreement. "Ah yes, it had slipped my mind for a second there." It was a lie, sometimes he skipped meetings because of Robespierre's waning mental state that drove everyone mad. The man needed to be kept on a tight leash, before things take a rather drastic turn that get the people of France killed.

"You will find the whereabouts of Luke Hemmings, yes?" Robespierre raised his eyebrows, awaiting a response from the man who merely sat there completely stoic and unmoving.

"Yes, Monsieur," Gascon quipped at once, already hearing word on the street of where Luke Hemmings could have been. Robespierre, of course, did not know about any of the rumors circulating the Parisian streets because he was rather oblivious to anything unless sheer power was the topic at hand, or murdering the royal family.

"If you find the bleeding bastard, you bring him to me, understand?" Robespierre paced back and forth, balling his hands into fists as if trying to control his rage at the mention of this peasant.

"Understood, Monsieur." Gascon nodded his head while Arno stood off to the side, hands clasped behind his back while he said nothing.

"If he refuses to come, threaten him with the revolver. Fire more damn shots next to him, or hell shoot the bloody pillock in the arse for all I care!" Robespierre tossed his hands up, muttering curses in Old French under his breath as his face gradually turned redder by the millisecond.

"Yes, Monsieur." Gascon sighed, rising from the pew he sat on, planning to leave the Notre-Dame before Robespierre blew a gasket and shot something. Robespierre snapped his head in Gascon's direction, startling the man.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going? We aren't finished here," Robespierre snarled, Arno rushing to his side in attempts to calm him down.

"To get a head start on finding Monsieur Luke Hemmings, just as you asked," Gascon spoke calmly, as if he was merely talking to someone as an equal, who did not terrify him in the slightest.

"And I said, we aren't finished here," Robespierre snapped, grabbing the revolver out of his waistcoat as his hands trembled. Arno wrestled the man to the ground, taking the revolver from him.

"Monsieur, there's no need to try to shoot Gascon for doing his duty!" Arno reasoned, trembling as he put the revolver in his waistcoat in fear that Robespierre would snatch it from his hands.

Robespierre laid on the ground, his face still beet red while he stayed in angry silence. They had no business touching his revolver. He was not even going to shoot Gascon, so why was he tackled to the ground and having it ripped from his hands?

"Monsieur?" Arno's voice shook, as he looked down at the leader of a great change in France. The man was still crumpled on the ground, as if he was seething in anger.

"Give me the damn gun back," He said calmly, staring at the ceiling of the famed cathedral with no expression. Gascon stepped back, as if trying to leave and Arno nodded his head.

"Monsieur, we need to get prepared for tonight's meeting and spread the word to other members," Arno said, trying to distract him while Gascon slipped out the cathedral unnoticed. Robespierre sat up into a sitting position, letting out a sigh.

"I suppose, but I don't feel well." Robespierre commented, staring at the tile floor as if confused by what he just said.

"Do you not want to have a meeting tonight, Monsieur?" Arno pressed, wondering what was going through the man in front of him's mind.

"No, I just want to go home and sleep," He murmured, looking like a child that had just been scolded on the floor. Arno wavered, beginning to question if Robespierre was trying to plot something inside his head.

"Sure," Arno finally said, biting the corner of his bottom lip in anticipation. He made sure the revolver was against his lower back, before bending down to help the man up. Arno could have sworn he saw a gleam in the man's eyes once he begun to help him up and he panicked, immediately letting go. "No, Monsieur, I think you just need to sit for a few more minutes."

Robespierre rolled his eyes, becoming temperamental again. "Why did you stop helping me up? I'm your superior, I raised you from the ashes of starvation and poverty and this is how you repay me?"

"Monsieur, you were going to hurt me. You were going to take the revolver and shoot me." His voice trembled, as his whole body shook as he became terrified. "Robespierre, there's something wrong with you."

"I wasn't going to hurt you, promise." The man in front of him scoffed, as if repulsed that he had thought that.

Arno shakily laughed it off, even though he was right. He made Robespierre angry when he took the weapon from his hands before he could shoot Gascon. Arno knew he made him angry, and Robespierre was beginning to lose his mind but only in front of Gascon and Arno which made him easier to read. He constantly lost his temper and was always talking about executing people and becoming obsessed with sending death threats to those who defiled him.

"You don't believe me," Robespierre gasped, offended.

Arno's eyes widened, and he held the palms of his hands out defensively. "No, I do believe you! Of course, I believe you!" Sweat broke out on the back of his neck as he had begun to panic.

"Bloody liar," Robespierre snarled, curling his lips and glaring at the taller man. Arno wanted to run, but he could only stand in place, slowly taking paces backwards to put some amount of distance from him and Robespierre.

He lunged at Arno, knocking the scrawny man to the ground immediately. Arno hit his head on the tiles of the cathedral hard enough to rattle his brain and cause him to see stars, the corners of his vision turning to black. The only thing he could see was Robespierre's power-hungry face looming over him menacingly.

"You're fucking dead to me," Robespierre growled before his shoe met Arno's face and everything went black.


	6. six.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gascon finally discovers the whereabouts of Luke Hemmings

"Have you seen Luke Hemmings?" Gascon walked through the streets of Paris, stopping anyone in his path to repeat the same question over and over. Everyone he had asked shook their heads, and in some cases muttering insults for being interrupted from their trains of thought.

Gascon waved down a woman who was setting out fresh vegetables and fruits, although the quantity was quite small. Her eyes widened, as if she thought she was in trouble and she dropped the barrel of produce and ducked into an alley way. Gascon sighed, running a hand down his face in frustration. "Merde." He kept walking, on a mission to please Robespierre.

Today was a peaceful day in the streets of Paris, however, and it was quite abnormal, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. Gascon kept repeating the same questions to anyone he came across in the streets, ignoring the fact some people were polite enough to answer that they simply did not know or that some were rude and pissed off enough to spit in his face. The thing that was frustrating Gascon the most, was the fact no one knew where Luke Hemmings was, and it was as if the bastard had disappeared off the face of the Earth.

Worry bubbled in the pit of Gascon's stomach as he wondered what he would tell Robespierre. Would he lie and say Luke Hemmings killed himself or was brutally murdered in the dead of night? Would he come clean and say no one knew where he was, and he had no such luck on his journey? He let out another sigh, walking past Katrine's flower shop. He paused in his tracks, seeing it was open and he walked in.

His sister was messing with flowers in a vase upon the counter, completely oblivious that her brother had just walked in. Her bright red hair was let down, her bottom lip tucked in between her teeth as she concentrated a little too hard on the task at hand. "Katrine?" He finally spoke, gaining her attention.

She looked at him for a mere five seconds and scowled. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Gascon smiled wryly, deciding to tease his younger sister rather than answering her. "Swearing isn't ladylike, my dear." She glared at him again, moving the vase on the counter across the shop. She swore once more when she realized the vase had a chip, the ivory pottery looking old and ragged.

"Do you know where Luke Hemmings is?" He asked, knowing she had to at least know something. Everyone knew her, and Luke had fooled around for a while, and she could not deny it in the slightest.

"Who?" She quirked an eyebrow, turning to face her brother and cross her arms. She was playing stupid, and Gascon had figured she would do so. Being a notorious whore, Katrine often played dumb when caught in the act of one of her numerous affairs even long after they had ended.

"Don't play stupid, everyone knows who you sleep around with." Gascon rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked around the family flower shop. There were not many flowers in the shop, most either been sold or too wilted to get a profit out of them.

"I don't sleep with peasants though, brother dearest." Gascon snorted, causing Katrine to scowl.

Gascon sighed, playing with a wilting blue dahlia. She snatched it out of her brother's hands before letting out a groan of annoyance. "Fine, I used to sleep with him. I ended it a while ago, but I don't know where he is."

"I need to find him by tonight, Katrine." Gascon looked at his younger sister helplessly and she merely shrugged.

"Sorry, I can't help you then." She examined her nails, as if trying to busy herself in any way possible to avoid talking about Luke Hemmings. Gascon had had enough, and he decided to just leave without saying another word. Katrine never once even looked up.

~

Meanwhile, Luke was rather enjoying himself at the Versailles Chateau. For the first time, he was able to eat meals, take baths, and sleep in a proper bed and not in a stable with a bunch of horses. Although it was taking Juliette some time to get used to, Luke could tell by the way she barely spoke to him except to let him know the bath was drawn or that dinner was ready.

Everything in the chateau had slowed down, which meant something horrible was imminent. Luke noticed that when meetings with Louis's advisers and concerned nobility stopped showing up, it was like a dark cloud hung over the place. Even the servants became rather hush about things, and would stop talking the second Marie, Louis, or Juliette came within twenty meters of them.

He was in the study, trying to teach himself to read. The walls were lined with books, filled with books personally written for the royal family, the history of the French monarchy, and various works of original stories written by talented authors. Luke desperately wanted to know how to read, considering he was never able to get an education due to his troubled past. After all, he practically raised himself his entire life.

He stared at the words in front of him, frowning when he was unable to decipher how to pronounce them, let alone figure out their meaning. Luke was growing frustrated, and he closed the book with a loud huff of annoyance. He stared at the red leather-bound book, with a title he could not read and glowered at it. He just wanted to be able to do something for himself, in a formal sense that was. Luke was street smart, he had common sense and could read people like a book. Except Luke did not know French history, how to read, or write.

Luke let out a sigh, looking behind out the window. The gardens loomed in front of him, filled with massive trees and bushes filled with beautiful flowers. Servants were out there watering the plants and cutting and trimming unneeded tree branches and overgrown bushes. They treated him differently, as if he was some sort of higher power over them when he has not even done his job. All he has done since the moment he got here, was teach himself to read and wander the chateau without supervision. He felt like a guest, when he was only there for supposedly protecting Marie and Louis's daughter.

He rose from the chair, pushing it underneath the table and looking around the library once more. He quietly closed the door of the library, looking behind him as if he was about to get caught stealing something; no one was in his vicinity probably off doing their jobs. Luke walked down the seemingly endless hallways, the black and white tiled floors echoing his footsteps. Expensive paintings adorned the walls at every turn, it was almost never ending.

"What are you doing?" a voice spoke behind him.

He turned, seeing Juliette standing behind him. She looked confused, but she never met his gaze, always looking anywhere but at him. "Oh, I was just exploring. I'm not prying into personal business, I swear." He answered truthfully, and she nodded in response.

"You don't speak much," She remarked, peering up at him. Luke looked away, his hands clasped firmly behind his back as he stared at a painting of Juliette's great-grandfather.

"Is that so?" He responded, his voice a low mumble. Lately he's been feeling terrified that Robespierre would discover his whereabouts and demand an execution. Thinking about it now made him feel nauseous.

"You're worried about something." She grinned at him, for reasons he did not know. She was right, and Luke knew that he easily gave away his emotions, but he did not egg on her suspicions.

"Would it be okay if I were to leave for a while?" Luke asked, wondering if he could find Gascon and make up a bullshit excuse for his absence. She nodded but did not say anything more.

"It was nice speaking with you," She said politely, doing a slight curtsy before walking away.

Luke left immediately, walking past servants who glared at him in jealousy as he walked past. Versailles was large and quite intimidating, although the architecture was gorgeous. As much as France hated the monarchy, Louis and Marie were not terrible people as town propaganda made them out to be. They took care of their servants, and Luke was sure if they would just ask to venture out they would be allowed to.

He ventured into Paris, where it seemed as if there was a calm before a storm, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. There were a few vendors out, selling their goods but there was no one to buy the goods in the streets. There were no riots, and there were no fist fights for the occasional baguette that would appear. Luke knew vendors, bakers, feared putting out a baguette or a simple loaf of bread due to the fact prices for those delicacies shot up. It was better to not put them out than to deal with a riot.

He continued his way down the streets, looking out for those associated with the Jacobin Club. He knew that if he saw any of them, they would immediately find Robespierre and say something before Luke even got the chance to say it himself. Luke was too busy looking out for those who could potentially ruin his life, that he ran into someone by accident.

He looked up, eyes widening immediately when he was staring at Gascon. Although it was the man he was initially looking for, he did not want to run into him like this while acting suspicious.

"And where the hell have you been?" Gascon asked, a perplexed expression upon his face.

"I've been around," Luke said, dodging the question while he tried to think of an excuse.

Gascon narrowed his eyes, looking up at the slightly taller man. "Around? Have you any mind how long we've been looking for you?"

"A few mere days, perhaps?" Luke replied, gaining a bit more confidence as he spoke.

Gascon waved his hand dismissively, "Doesn't matter, fact is I need to take you to see Robespierre. Now."

Luke sighed, not wanting to face the psychotic man at the moment. He had not wanted to deal with the man, ever but somehow, he got sucked into this giant wormhole of a mess. "I don't think that's best right now." Luke tried to reason with Gascon, but he would not have it, he kept shaking his head and saying something about loyalty and the importance of following orders. Gascon grabbed Luke's arm in attempts to lead him straight to his death.

"Gascon, he's psychotic!" Luke snapped, yanking his arm from Gascon's grip and staring at the man with a scowl.

"You don't understand, Luke, you don't want to piss him off," The older man looked frantically around them, confusing Luke. Robespierre was terrifying when angry, but that should not mean that everyone should bow down to his will because the man was clearly mentally ill.

"Gascon, I understand that but that doesn't mean we should give in." Luke spoke calmly, cautiously placing his palms in front of him, outstretched towards Gascon. "Listen, I've just been very very busy lately and tell him I said I'm sorry."

"Busy with what?" Gascon pried, but Luke would not answer while the man continued to press him for vital information. "Just tell me, please!"

Luke sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration. He could not stick to his guns very well, especially when he always had a constant anxiety burbling in the deep pit of stomach that destroyed what little confidence he had at every turn.

"I can't explain right now," Luke said simply.

Gascon groaned in frustration, looking extremely frustrated at the younger man. "I can help your case if you just tell me!" Luke flinched, the man sharply raising his voice while he started to become angry from the frustration Luke was causing.

"If I tell you, promise me I'll return from Robespierre's in one piece, alright?" Luke bargained, eyeing Gascon up and down while in an unsettling feeling added to the bubbling anxiety.

"Deal."


	7. sept.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arno awakens while Luke and Gascon rush to Versailles

"Can I even trust you?" Luke asked, looking at Gascon from the corner of his eye. The shorter man quirked a brow, as if Luke had just asked the most redundant question he had ever heard.

"Monsieur, did we not just make a deal?" The man rolled his eyes at Luke, to which he let out an annoyed sigh in response. Was Luke supposed to believe that anyone associated with Robespierre could truly be trusted?

"Doesn't mean a snake like you can't suddenly turn the deal around," Luke remarked, causing Gascon to snort. Luke stopped walking, turning around to look at Gascon fully. "You were there the night he nearly killed me with that damned revolver. What the hell am I supposed to think?"

Gascon pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out an exasperated sigh of annoyance. "Listen, just tell me where the fuck you were, and I'll make up a bloody excuse to get you out of trouble, alright?"

"I don't fucking trust you," Luke sneered, inching closer.

"Here's an excuse, your mother was sick, and your brother was nowhere to be seen so you had to step up. Fair enough?" Gascon spread his arms out, as if presenting a grand gesture. Luke could see the desperate gleam in Gascon's eyes, yet he still could not bring himself to trust him even an ounce.

"He knows I don't have a family, I haven't since the age of six," Luke said blandly, staring at the market place over Gascon's shoulder.

"You don't know that." Gascon waved his hand dismissively, Luke sighing again and looking at the man hopelessly.

"God dammit, Gascon, the man knows every single thing about me," Luke stressed, running his hands through his filthy hair desperately. Gascon let out a breath, almost as a sigh of defeat. "Look, I know we made a deal, but I really can't bring myself to trust you."

"Luke, just give me the grand gist. No specifics, fair enough?" He suggested desperately.

He looked at Gascon squarely, face void of any expression. "No."

Gascon pinched the bridge of his nose again, as if keeping his temper in check. "You made the fucking deal! Just tell me!" He got into Luke's face, the same desperate gleam in his eyes from a few minutes ago. Luke could not bring himself to feel the slightest bit of remorse, even though deep down he knew he had made the deal without a second thought.

Luke sighed, "I got a job, I've been busy."

The man in front of him relaxed, but only momentarily before he eyes snapped back to Luke. "A job? Where? France is in poverty how the hell did you manage to get a job?"

"It just happened, I guess." Luke shrugged, staring at Gascon to make his lie believable; although it was only a half truth. Miraculously it did just happen, but only because the royal family was exceedingly desperate to make sure their only child was protected should anything happen to them.

Gascon narrowed his eyes, looking at Luke somewhat suspiciously. "Things don't just happen, Monsieur. I know I didn't ask for specifics but now I'm intrigued."

"And your intrigued ass can mind your own business," Luke snarled, quickly turning on his heel and walking away from Gascon.

Gascon sighed behind him, quickly catching up. He let it go a lot easier than Luke initially expected, but he was not going to complain. The two continued to walk on in silence, neither making the effort to start stiff conversation.

They had entered the rich district of Paris, the grand apartments and estates having intricately designed façades that were quite impeccable to look at. Luke was envious of the rich lifestyle of the Parisian nobles, wishing he had that life for himself.

"Are you sure he's even home at the moment? You never know with that bastard," Luke remarked as they stopped at the gates of a marvelous estate.

Gascon did not say anything, opening the gate and stepping inside. Several of Robespierre's servants grooming the horses and sweeping leaves off the cobblestone pathway.

"Emily, is your master home?" Gascon asked a young girl.

She leaned on the broom, her blonde curls hanging in her face. "I don't believe so. Did you have an appointment?"

"No, we didn't. Is the mistress home by chance?" Gascon then asked to which Emily quickly nodded her head. She handed the broom to a boy standing near her as she quickened her pace towards the estate.

Luke reluctantly followed behind, anxiety in the back of his mind questioning if Gascon was leading him to his death. He may have been forced into the Jacobin Club, Robespierre's pathetic excuse for justice for the common people, but that did not by any means guarantee his life.

Emily walked into the estate as if she owned the place, leading Luke and Gascon into the breathtaking estate filled with expensive paintings and decor and expensive silk couches and sitting chairs. Once again, Luke felt envious of the life he had always wanted for himself.

"The mistress should be in her room, wait a moment while I go fetch her please." She scurried off while Luke and Gascon milled around the parlor.

Luke looked at the paintings of Robespierre and Katrine looking stoic and regal, as if they belonged in the throne that held the fate of France in balance. He supposed that once Robespierre enacted his plan to rid of the monarchy, he would ascend to ultimate power and become a dictator that would only worsen France rather than improving. There was just something about Robespierre that felt off to say the least, something about him made Luke feel like he was only out for power and simply manipulated the citizens of France like puppets for an elaborate show. He began to wonder if this was the way it was over in the United States when they separated from Britain, someone out for money and power.

"Monsieur Gascon? Katrine said she would like to speak with you alone," Emily said, entering the parlor and startling Luke out of his thoughts.

Gascon merely nodded, following Emily down the hall while Luke continued to look around. He figured Emily told Katrine that he was here, after all he distantly recalled Emily catching Katrine and Luke in their affair when she had just become engaged to Robespierre. It seemed so long ago, when it was only a mere six months ago.

Gascon returned, Emily nor Katrine nowhere in sight. "He's at the café, things are going to get very messy very quickly."

~

Arno awoke what seemed like hours later. His face was covered in the dried blood that had came from his nose when Robespierre slammed his shoe in his face, his entire body aching, and the pounding effects of a migraine coming on in the back of his head. He felt betrayed by the man he had looked up to, but something in the back of his mind told him that it was to be expected.

Robespierre was nothing but a vile man who did not give two shits about anyone but himself. He intrigued Arno with the promise of equality for those less fortunate, getting rid of the divide that separated the poor and the rich for a prosperous lifestyle for all. He swayed Arno into believing that without the monarchy, France could truly enter a period of peace and equality. Arno slowly sat up, feeling weak. The cathedral was completely empty, and he was completely and utterly alone.

He slowly raised a hand to his face, his nose feeling abnormally large and the dried blood coming off in bits and pieces on his fingers. His left eye even felt bruised, but he cannot quite remember exactly what happened. It felt as if the moments prior to getting stomped on by Robespierre's shoe were erased from memory. He gripped one of the pews for support as he slowly but steadily pulled himself to his feet. He began to feel dizzy, as if everything around him was shaking violently like an earthquake. He slumped into the pew, leaning back and staring at the high ceilings of the massive cathedral as he tried his hardest to collect his thoughts. He kept coming up empty with everything that happened, and he began to grow frustrated by the fact he simply could not remember.

"God fucking dammit," he swore, gripping the side of his head as it pounded ferociously to the point it was driving him mad.

He wondered where Robespierre was right now, and where the hell Gascon was and why he was completely alone with no one here to help him. Arno let out a shaky breath, wishing there was a way to seek help without screaming his lungs out until his head can't take it no more and his throats raw. He contemplated what to do, knowing full on well he was too weak to stumble through the streets of Paris alone. The sun was no longer out either, meaning no one would be out this late to help him.


	8. huit.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke and Gascon arrive at Versailles

The Café de Procope was loaded with aristocrats and worshipers of Robespierre. Gascon entered the restaurant, walking in with confidence he wished he had. Robespierre sat at the head of the table, laughing with all the other aristocratic and middle-class suck ups who only dreamed to truly be a part of a monarchy free dream.

"Ah, Gascon! Glad you could make it!" Robespierre shouted from the back of the room. Gascon waved politely, heading towards the empty seat on Robespierre's right. A glass filled with whiskey was placed in front of him, almost immediately. "So, what brings you here, my dear friend?"

Gascon inwardly cringed at Robespierre's word choice, something seeming to be a little off, to say the absolute least. "You demanded I find Luke Hemmings, and I found...him."

Robespierre's eyes lit up, as the table silenced at once. "Where on earth did you find him?"

"He was wandering the streets, in the downtown area looking lost," Gascon answered truthfully, although he probably should have lied and said something else. Robespierre narrowed his eyes, leaning forward and eyeing Gascon up and down.

"And, where is he?" Robespierre asked suspiciously.

"At your home, with Katrine. They're all waiting for you," Gascon blurted, almost immediately. Robespierre slammed his hands on the table, looking outraged.

"They slept with each other, did you really think it was a good idea to leave them alone together?" Robespierre bellowed, causing everyone at the table to flinch. Gascon stared at Robespierre, his gaze unwavering as Robespierre glared at him intensely.

Everyone around them stared, with bated breath at what was about to unfold. Gascon continued to look at Robespierre, who took large deep breaths as if to keep his temper in check. It was as if the good mood he had from moments before vanished. Gascon looked around the table, without moving his head, eyes scanning the table. "Where's Arno?" He asked, completely avoiding Robespierre's previous outburst.

A few other men murmured the same question, but Robespierre was still angry. "I don't fucking know nor do I fucking care," Robespierre spat, knocking over a glass of champagne causing the expensive drink to spill all over the floor. He paid the spilling drink no mind, as he continued to speak about the Jacobin Club's so-called mission, but to Gascon it seemed as if Robespierre was more preoccupied with bringing down Luke than anything else.

Gascon looked at the entrance to the tavern, hoping the doors would swing open and Luke would enter filled with revenge and maybe kill Robespierre on the spot. He knew it would not happen that way, Luke would probably meticulously plan Robespierre's demise rather than doing something on impulse. He glanced at Robespierre who continued to speak, more or so lost in his own thoughts with his attention on everyone at the table but it was as if he was not necessarily there, like his mind was elsewhere.

"Gascon, do go get Monsieur Hemmings and bring him here at once!" Robespierre clapped his hands happily, a gleam in his eye that made Gascon's blood run cold. He tried not to think much of it, brushing it off without another thought although he really should not have done that.

He left the tavern at once, walking in the direction towards Robespierre's house while the streets remained eerily silent and almost empty. He looked towards the nearest apothecary, noticing the torch in the front of the shop was missing. Gascon walked towards the shopping district in the heart of Paris, noticing at once that everyone's torches from their shopfronts and apartments were missing. His blood ran cold once more, it suddenly dawning on him that Robespierre's might've just sparked a revolution inside the citizens and that the monarchy was already falling.

"Oh shit!" he shouted, breaking into a run as he dashed towards Robespierre's house. He needed to get Luke, he needed someone to help him figure all this out and to put a stop to it at once.

The gates at Robespierre's were wide open, Gascon running inside and entering the estate. Luke was still seated in the parlor, Katrine glaring at Luke distastefully while she sipped her tea. He did not say anything when Gascon arrived, sweat broken out across his brow and panting heavily while neither of the two noticed him.

"There's been a revolution, Luke come quick." Gascon panted, taking the handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiping the sweat from his forehead with it. Luke jumped out from the chair, looking at Gascon in a rather confused manner.

"What do you even mean by a revolution?" Luke inquired, stepping closer to Gascon.

"All...the torches...they're gone," Gascon held a hand against his chest as his breaths continued to be labored as if he couldn't quite catch his breath enough to speak. "They've...probably...marched...to the palace."

Luke swore under his breath, glancing back at Katrine who paid the two young men no mind as if they were not even there. She handed her tea cup to Emily, the young servant girl from earlier, and retreated down one of the halls. Luke rolled his eyes, but Gascon was not paying attention as he still struggled to regain composure, breaking into a coughing fit.

"Are you alright? You didn't run all that way, did you?" Luke asked, gently placing a hand on the man's shoulder. Gascon waved him away, coughing once more before placing his handkerchief back in his pocket.

"I'll be alright but come quick we must hurry to the Versailles palace and see what's going on." Gascon stood up, walking towards the stables, causing Luke to give him to an incredulous look. "I can't run all the way there, and we need to hurry. It isn't like my sister gives a shit, in fact she could care less."

Luke rolled his eyes as Gascon pulled open the stable doors. He grabbed two saddles off a hook, tossing one at Luke who caught it in surprise. "Robespierre already wants me dead, wouldn't taking two horses make him want to kill me more? He wouldn't blame you, you're obviously his favorite worshiper." Gascon cringed, leaning against the stable door to look up at the giant man.

"There's something deeply wrong with him, Arno wasn't at the meeting tonight and he's always there. In fact, he never misses anything in fear of disappointing, rather shall I say angering, Robespierre." Luke licked his lips, not saying anything as if he was deep in thought.

"Strange, did Robespierre react?" Gascon was positive that Luke knew Robespierre was guilty of something just like he had thought. He shook his head in response, causing Luke to let out a dry laugh as he walked across the stable to let out Robespierre's prized horse Marmalade.

"I wouldn't take that one, it's Robespierre's favorite." Luke simply shrugged in response and brought her out anyway, securing the saddle on her back before climbing on. Gascon followed suit with a new one, one that had not been named yet but was supposed to be for Katrine.

The two men exited the stables on the horses, entering the streets as dusk loomed over Paris. Anxiety coursed through Gascon's bloodstream, as he suddenly felt very nauseous knowing he was obeying Robespierre's orders, but he chose not to acknowledge and decided for once not to think. Being an intellectual, he could not help but to over analyze and overthink absolutely everything that went on but now it was causing him to go on the verge of breakdowns because everything going on relied simply on impulse actions. Luke, it seemed as if he did everything without a single thought, while Gascon had to overthink everything and be too cautious before making a simple decision or before saying a single word.

Sometimes he wondered why Robespierre liked him so much, except now he felt like he was simply being used; in fact, everyone was probably being used for his own personal gain. It was obvious that Robespierre was rather envious of Luke, he was a poor boy with no family who could easily sway the hearts of the people of France with his horrendous and rather tragic life. The people would take pity, and Robespierre would be knocked down to the nobody he was deep down.

It was late, and the ride to Versailles would likely take all night due to the distance and Gascon was extremely tired; mentally and physically. Things were taking a toll on them, but he couldn't let Luke go by himself and risk getting caught by Robespierre. As much as he hated to say it, his life was at stake.

"Do you think Robespierre orchestrated it?" Luke asked Gascon, who was too busy lost in his thought to barely register the younger man's words. Gascon chewed his lip, as the man repeated the words he had just spoken a few mere moments earlier. They had been up almost all night and he was unable to properly think because of how exhausted he was.

"I don't think so, but I'm positive he instilled the thought into many of them," Gascon finally answered. Luke hummed in response, not saying anything else as the two urged their horses to go faster.

They were approaching the Versailles palace, having ridden all night long, and Gascon was immediately filled with dread as the two men realized that all the citizens had attacked the Versailles palace. Luke swore under his breath repeatedly, seemingly more irate about it than Gascon was.

"I'm too fucking late, I'm too fucking late," Luke muttered continuously. Gascon eyed him curiously, debating whether to question him, deciding to just leave him alone. Luke clambered off Marmalade hastily, almost causing the horse to panic, before running in the direction of the crowd retreating from the palace.

Gascon swore, hopping off the horse he rode before he tied them securely the nearest fence on the outskirts of the palace. He chased after him, although he had no idea what direction he ran in. The crowd's shouts were deafening in Gascon's ears, shouts demanding justice and food filled the air and as he looked around the royals were nowhere to be found. It was late on October fifth, and Gascon was filled with the startling realization that the revolution had begun, and he helped orchestrate it.


	9. neuf.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the royal family deals with the women's march as Luke comes to their rescue

He sat in his office, skimming over the latest complaint letters from the French citizens. He thought that surely things would have calmed down by now, hoping that the citizens would wait patiently until he could figure out a way to feed them and fix France's bankruptcy. In the past few days, people have been getting increasingly antsy and leaving vicious threats around the palace for him to find.

He sighed, burying his head in his hands as the doors opened and a servant gave him his cup of morning tea. He muttered a small thanks, getting frustrated with the way things were going and unsure of what to do. Sometimes he considered begging Robespierre for help, but he knew it would do no good considering he had found out that Robespierre was rallying the middle and lower class to overthrow the monarchy.

"Are you alright, sir?" the servant asked, a young boy by the name of Eric. He smiled warmly at Louis, as if it would reassure him that things would get better someday. Louis would've liked to believe that, but his hope was wearing thin like a dimly burning candle in the darkest room, begging to stop and burn out.

He paused, unsure of how to exactly respond considering he barely spoke to anyone these days unless a peasant busted into the chateau demanding to speak to him this instant or else they were going to murder his entire family. He was too kind at times, always letting them in and listening to them scream and holler at him about how everything going wrong was his fault and that he shouldn't even be ruling this country. He shook his head, giving the boy a half-smile, "I'm quite alright, thank you."

Louis pressed his lips into a thin line, stirring the cubes of sugar into his tea while he stared blankly at the bookcase on the wall opposite from him. He slowly sipped his tea, his mind unraveling with all the stress he had built up. Once he finished the tea he placed the cup far away from the letters as he continued to read through them. He debated on responding or not, as some of them were particularly nasty and made him sick to his stomach while reading. Eventually he had to stop, on the edge of a nervous breakdown as he gathered the letters into a pile and placed them in a drawer out of his sight.

The door opened again, this time a different servant who Louis wasn't even sure of her name. "Yes?" He spoke quietly, gazing at her intently trying to show a slight interest in her presence even though he just wanted to be left alone.

She smiled meekly, doing a simple curtsy before she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. "I'm sorry to inform that there's a massive crowd gathering outside, they're demanding that they speak to you...immediately."

He jumped up from his seat, panicking and ignoring the fact that his chair had slammed against the tile flooring from how fast he rose. He yanked his handkerchief out of his breast pocket, wiping it across his brow as his heart hammered inside of his chest. "Is the crowd angry?" He stuttered, wringing his hands together nervously and trying to act as if he wasn't a complete nervous wreck.

She laughed nervously, scratching the back of her neck and twirling the curls of brown hair that had fallen out of her bun, trying to act like everything was fine when it was obvious things were about to go very wrong. "Things could be worse?" She offered, although it did nothing to set the king at ease because things have been getting worse each day since the gala they hosted in honor of Robespierre and his bride.

"Bring me the group who's leading the crowd, I'll speak to them privately," He muttered, picking up the fallen chair as she nodded at once and retreated from his office.

He sat down behind the desk again, staring at the mahogany bookshelves that lined the royal blue wallpapered walls and trying to think of something else before the angry group entered. He took several deep breaths, knowing he couldn't show weakness and needed to try his best to be diplomatic and resolve the issues as best as he possibly could at the moment.

He sucked in a breath as the door opened again and a small group of about five people, three women and two men, entered. One of the men in the group clearly belonged to the aristocracy class, dressed in the finest garments and Louis watched the man yank a pocket watch and check the time before he strode over to the desk while the others tailed behind. He sneered at Louis, looking down at him as he began to pace back and forth. The women glared at him, making him even more uncomfortable, their gazes laced with sheer venom. They didn't say anything, even though one of them looked like they wanted to strike him dead right then and there. All of them looked to be in the merchant class, one of them even covered in what looked like flour on their smock. He pitied them because he knew that they were struggling like every other citizen and that they all blamed him for the failures happening.

The man cleared his throat, eyeing Louis from over his shoulder as he skimmed his bony fingers across the spines of the books that were tucked neatly on the shelves. His greying black hair was pulled into a neat ponytail, complete with a baby blue ribbon that complimented his attire. "As you know," He began, continuing to pace and looking back at Louis once more to only sneer and look back at the shelves, "France is plagued with starvation and the citizens are exceedingly poor."

Louis gulped and nodded, although the man wasn't even looking at him. The man turned around and Louis nodded again, looking away. "Yes, I'm aware." He finally spoke, playing with the feathers on his quill. He fidgeted a lot lately, he was surprised no one had called him out on it yet but his reputation as a strong leader was tarnished, so he simply assumed that it no longer mattered.

"Well, why haven't you done a god damned thing about it? You fill the citizens heads with false hopes and things just keep getting worse instead of better like you promised time and time again, yes?" He spat, giving Louis a rather condescending look. The man stopped pacing and strode over to the front of his desk He slammed his hands down on the desk, glaring at the weak and feeble man in front of him.

Louis opened his mouth to speak, but the man silenced him. "And why have you been hoarding all of this bread in this palace instead of giving to your subjects? If you keep promising to make our lives better, why are you continuing to blow money and live a rather lavish lifestyle? Or maybe since you're a spineless loiter-sack, you continue to let your whore of a wife blow all your money?"

He looked down in shame, feeling guilt bubble in his stomach. He couldn't find it in himself to give the man a proper answer, especially while he was being belittled. "What if I give out food to the crowd and work on providing more later?" He suggested, holding his shaking hands together under the desk as to not show any more weakness than he already had.

The women smiled and nodded their heads eagerly while the man's lips curved into a sly, almost dark smile. "Wonderful." He spoke, although his tone came across as venomous and sent chills down Louis's spine.

Louis stood up and smiled brightly at the group, leading them out of his office and down the long halls. The group trailed slightly behind, admiring the various artworks and tapestries along the walls, even admiring their reflections on the pristine marble flooring. He continued walking, speeding up a bit to hurry up and get this over with. He glanced back a few times to make sure they were following him and speeding up once more when he knew that they weren't too far behind. Louis was beginning to get anxious, the more the group stopped and stared at all his belongings as if they were placing price tags upon them.

He reached the bottom floor of the chateau, leading them out the back and into his beautiful gardens, the orange trees still filling the area with their fragrant scent even though they had already been harvested. They were almost ready to be taken inside for the winter as the weather slowly became colder and colder in preparation for the snow. Gardeners were milling about, trimming hedges and watering the grass in attempts to make it pristine and extravagant and the group continued to look on in awe despite the fact mere minutes ago they were ago and looked as if they were about to slice his neck.

They were approaching the back of the garden, where elegant store houses that held all the royals' food lay tucked against the back fence. The door was wide open as a servant exited with a cart loaded with bread and fresh fruit in preparation for tonight's meal. Louis snaps his fingers while passing, smiling nervously at him. "If you would, could you take that cart of food to the front of the palace, we have a mob of starving citizens and I would deeply appreciate it. Please gather others as we're likely going to need more carts full of food."

Louis snaps his fingers while passing a servant leaving the store, a cart full of bread and fresh fruit inside. He tries not to look back at the group, knowing it's for tonight's dinner. "I would deeply appreciate it if you would take that cart to the crowd outside. Make sure you find someone to help you, we may need several carts to be filled." The servant quicks an eyebrow but does as he's told and likely mumbled something under his breath as he walked away. Louis finally turns back to the group, laughing nervously and clapping his hands together.

"Was that not for your dinner tonight?" one of the women asked, a perplexed look upon her face. She had her arms crossed as she looked intently at Louis for an answer and he laughed nervously again, brushing off her question as he led them back inside to personally escort them out front.

The crowd outside was massive, all of them shouting and waving their arms angrily at the balcony outside of the king's chambers. He looked back at the group for some sort of reassurance as a few servants carried carts loaded with the goods Louis had just promised; they offered no sort of sympathy as they took some of the carts from the servants and boomed loudly, "We have provided as promised!"

The crowd went from angry to jubilant, running over to the carts and grabbing as much food as possible. Louis felt defeated, as the group took all the credit and made it seem as if they stole from the king's stores when that was far from the case. The crowd cheered and praised them, shouting "Long live the revolution!" at the top of their lungs even though the king was standing right there.

He retreated inside, defeatedly walking towards his chambers. He passed his wife, who incessantly questioned him about the crowd outside while he simply waved her off and closed the bedroom door. He laid down on the bed just as the door opened again, his wife entering.

"What the hell is going on, Louis?" She demanded, striding over to the bed to glare at her husband. She looked down upon him, standing on the ride of the bed while he simply continued to lie there and act as if she didn't exist at the moment. "Jesus Christ, Louis everything's going to hell and you won't tell me a God damned thing!"

"I don't even know what's going on anymore," He mumbled, eyes closed. He tried to calm himself down and think of a happy place and of happier times, but he kept coming up empty and he still felt drained and stressed. "Everything that I thought was going to improve is just getting worst, we're screwed."

She guffawed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "Obviously we're screwed, everyone in this whole damn country is completely bankrupt and the country's starving! Maybe we should stay with my family in Austria and let everything sort itself out here."

He perked up at those words, leaning against the fluffy pillows to look at his wife. His lips curved into a small smile at the thought of fleeing the horrors happening in this country to live a better life away from it all. "That's not a bad idea, my dear." She nodded her head and smiled.

"I'll write to my family and hope they respond immediately." She left the room after that while Louis drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

~

The citizens of France crowded the chateau, armed with pitch forks, burned out torches and guns, it was evident they were angry and ready to revolt. Juliette was hiding under her bed, terrified for her own life as she had no idea where her parents even were. She had barricaded herself in her private apartment, afraid to even go near the window as she lived in fear of having something thrown at her.

She tried to curl up into a tight ball, biting her bottom lip to keep from crying out in fear. She had heard footsteps race up and down the halls and she wasn't sure if it was the riot or the staff, so she had kept quiet and tried to calm her nerves. A cold sweat broke out across her brow as the chateau became quiet, and she heard nothing. Juliette cautiously poked her head out from underneath the bed, looking around the room and seeing if she could even see a sliver of light from underneath her bedroom doors. She couldn't see anything and slowly crawled out from underneath the bed.

She stretched her limbs, having been lying underneath the bed for well over an hour. She looked around the room, crawling slowly towards the window to get a slight glimpse of what was going on outside. Juliette figured it had been the last straw ever since the gala when even the richest in France were starting to become unhappy with the royals, the gala itself had a strange, almost ominous aura surrounding it; like the people of France wanted to rebel right then and there.

The front gates of the castle were broken, blood smeared on the marble flooring that stretched out towards the gates. Her eyes widened as her heartbeat quickened in her chest, the blood roaring in her ears. Citizens were still storming into the palace, slaughtering the guards as they broke inside to kill her parents. She poked her head up even more to get a closer look and ducked when she locked eyes with a peasant. She quickly dove away from the window as a chunk of stone busted through the window, glass shattering everywhere.

The shouts from outside became more prominent as she scrambled back under the bed, trying to tuck her knees close to her chest as tears streamed down her cheeks. She couldn't hear any movement from outside her bedroom, but she was sure half of her attendants were either dead or joining in with the crowd here to kill her parents. She picked fallen glass shards out of his arms and hands, a few even stabbing her cheeks. Juliette got up and ran to the bedroom door, making sure to not look back at the broken window.

She slowly opened the door, ignoring the pain in her limbs from the glass and being curled up for far too long, making damn sure to look both ways to avoid being killed. She ran quickly into the nearest room, one of the bathrooms that was hardly ever used. She had heard footsteps and quietly closed the door, slinking down to the floor and leaning against it while she waited to hear nothing.

Her heartbeat was thudding and felt like it was going to bust out of her chest partly from the adrenaline but mostly from the anxiety buzzing in her veins. She pressed her ear against the door, slightly turning on her side to listen intently. She waited a few moments, unable to hear anything and took a chance to leave the room again. Juliette paused a moment, turning to look at the elegant red wallpaper and gold décor that adorned the bath with a pristine porcelain tub sitting in the center. She shook her head and ran again, unsure of where she should run until she smacked straight into someone. Her heartbeat quickened again as she looked up and came face to face with Luke.

"What are you doing here?" She hissed, grabbing his arm and leading him into the nearest room that was extremely close to the staircase. He didn't say anything, as she slowly closed the door and watched her while he glanced back at the window that was right behind him.

She had dragged him into the room with the prized possessions of her family, dating back to when the palace was still in Paris ages ago. Almost every room in the house was covered in either royal blue or dark red wallpaper with floral patterns and some sort of famed Renaissance painting, this room was no exception. It was filled with several paintings and even some of her family's most prized weapons.

"What are you doing here?" She asked again while Luke crept around to look at all the artwork hung on the walls, looking at most them in awe. She walked up to him, grabbing his arm and pulling them both down to avoid getting caught. "Answer my question."

He sighed and looked at her. "I saw the riot outside, yesterday evening I saw them march towards the palace and I knew I had to get here as fast as possible." He looked back up at the artwork, one of her great-grandfathers who her father didn't speak much of. He didn't stare at it long before he looked back at her. "Where's your parents?"

Juliette looked away, troubled by the question because she had no clue either. "I don't know, I've been hiding in my room pretending none of this was going on. It was much more peaceful yesterday."

Luke hummed in response, chewing the inside of his cheek as he surveyed the room. She wasn't sure exactly what he was doing but she knew they had to find her parents as soon as possible. "Where do you think they are right now?" He asked her, and she shrugged.

"They always do their own thing, so I really don't know. I don't speak to them that much anymore." She murmured, looking at the dried blood on the palms of her hands and arms. He gently took both of her hands in his, eyeing the small wounds from the shattered window.

"What happened?" He whispered, hearing shouts and footsteps on the staircase outside the room.

"I made eye contact with someone very angry at my family and they threw a rock and it shattered my window," She answered, and he only nodded in response, letting her hands go and slowly standing up.

"We need to go, it'll only be a matter of time before someone shows up and finds us," He said, grabbing her hand to help hoist her up. She muttered a small thanks as he took her hand in his. Luke opened the door and poked his head out, make sure he looked both ways to avoid getting caught. He turned back to give her the all-clear and took off running, still holding onto her hand.

They ran down the staircase, the carpet messed up and exposing the slick marble staircase underneath. Luke slowed down a bit to avoid slipping and falling as they took off out the back door. The gardens were deserted, and Juliette looked surprised to see no one out here but she never said anything as her and Luke continued to run hand in hand. He stopped at the edge of the garden, completely out of breath as they stood there for a few moments to debate what to do next. Behind them, on the other side of the garden, lay the pond and trees where her father would hunt wild birds for fun.

"I say we go back here and cut around to get away from the palace before you get killed," Luke suggested, gesturing to the trees on the other side of the pond and Juliette widened her eyes.

"What about my parents?" She said, pointing directly at the palace and looking at him like he was insane. She supposed he was, even though he had been working for her a family for the last little while and she barely saw him or if she did, he never spoke a word to her.

"It's too dangerous to go back there, are you fucking crazy? Do you want to get killed?" He shouted, and then quickly lowered his voice as he looked at her. She stubbornly crossed her arms as she stared up at him, forgetting how tall he was.

"I don't want to leave my parents. Even if it's for my safety I just can't." Tears formed in her eyes and Luke's angry facial expression softened to one of sympathy. He licked his lips as he sighed while she stood there and cried silently. "How about I send you somewhere safe and I go back and look?"

 

She dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her dress. "I know it's dangerous, but I want to go with you."

He sighed and ran a hand down his face in frustration. "I'm sorry but I'm not risking you getting killed, you're going somewhere safe and I'm going to find them...alone."

She stamped her foot. "I'm going to find my fucking parents, with or without you." Her small hands were balled into fists while Luke rolled his eyes and looked away, knowing he was going to say something incredibly snappy and rude.

He grabbed her hand before she could take off, and she tried to yank it away several times. "Stop it, you're going to draw attention to us and we don't want that, now do we?" Her arm fell limp as she glared at him, her stare icy. Just as he was about to move and lead her to safety, a gunshot rang across the empty garden, likely coming from out front.

"We have to go, now." He grabbed her arm and took off running, not caring about her protests and screams about how they need to get to her parents immediately. The grass near the pond was marshy, their footsteps sinking into the ground and their legs being covered in muddy grass. They ran through the trees as Luke took a sharp left towards the front of the palace and then a right towards the farmhouses and wooden fences. Luke led her to a horse that looked like it was stolen from an aristocrat with its finely groomed mane complete with a ribbon bow on the tail. He hoisted her up, untying the horse from a pole on the fence, cursing under his breath as he clambered up and made the horse take off.

She turned, trying to get a good at the palace as she heard yet another gunshot and cheers from the angry crowd in front of her childhood home. More tears crept down her face as she turned back, biting her lip to keep from sobbing.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, turning back around one more time.


	10. dix.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gascon loses sight of Luke, while Luke and Juliette flee from Versailles

Gascon scoured the palace amidst the chaos, knowing he had once again lost track of Luke. He slammed open a door into one of the many rooms in the palace, finding it nearly ransacked as the royals had just been escorted from the palace by force in a carriage as the mob slowly left. However, the room was completely empty both literally and figuratively and he groaned in frustration as he entered another room and another and so on.

"Jesus Christ, how hard is it to find an overly large oaf?" He muttered to himself as he searched several rooms and find them all empty and a few in the process of the lavish former belongings of the royals being taken. The people inside the rooms never paid him any mind as they simply continued to take precious and expensive things from the walls, with no regard to the fact several of them were Capet family heirlooms. He brushed a hand through his long hair, the ribbon having fallen out over the course of time it took both him and Luke to reach the palace. He probably looked insane, his silk attire sticking to him from perspiration that covered his entire body like oil and his hair was probably a frizzing mess from being up nearly all the time.

He opened another door, trying one last time and finding himself inside the king's private office. His eyes widened, thinking of how this would be a great opportunity to get information for the Jacobin Club. The office was untouched, which was rather surprising to him considering the citizens could immediately put the king on trial for anything they wanted based on information they found inside the office. A devious smile crept its way onto his chiseled cheeks, even though he kept telling himself he was going to stay away from the Jacobin Club to protect his sanity, but Robespierre had already rubbed off on him and he found it too difficult to stay away. He had to ransack the office for anything he could find, knowing it would make Robespierre forget about Luke for a hot minute while he tried his best to locate him.

"Fuck it," He said as he stepped fully into the office and quietly closed the double doors behind him. He surveyed the room, eyeing the finely polished desk and shelves that lined the walls. The room was truly magnificent, and he felt like he could get lost in the various books that sat untouched on the shelves for hours, but he had to stop himself knowing he needed to find important documents that would be valuable to Robespierre.

In a few short strides, he was opening the desk drawers and only finding empty, untouched parchment paper and ink for the quills that sat neatly on the desk. He knew deep down if anything would upset the citizens of France was kept on pen and paper, it would need to be hidden to keep it under wraps. He slowly pulled out one of the drawers in hope of finding paper hidden in the back, only to be staring at the back of the desk. He shoved it back in harshly and swore. "God fucking dammit." He opened the next drawer and the next, eventually moving to the bookshelves.

By the time he was done with it all, the once pristine and organized office was a complete disaster. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration, kicking the desk with his shoe as he was now becoming more and more desperate to please Robespierre for fear of being killed, he saw what happened to Luke that night and he knew Robespierre would make sure to not miss if it was him. Tears of fear and frustration pooled in his eyes as he tried to quickly think of something else, but the office was the only thing he had, and Luke was gone, nowhere to be found. Gascon noticed he had pulled a disappearing act quite often since swearing fealty to the Jacobin Club after being terrorized by Robespierre, he couldn't blame him but at the same time, he knew it was better to suck up than go into hiding and appearing whenever he pleased. He knew it would only piss Robespierre off like Luke had already been doing the last few weeks.

He plopped himself down on the floor, amidst the mess he had created while he couldn't help but shed a few tears as he had become frustrated and completely lost. For one, he hadn't seen Arno in days and he was worried that Robespierre had done something God awful to him and it would soon become his own damn fault. Gascon could've easily left this whole situation already but he had chosen to stay around, all because he had thought he was making a difference.

~

Meanwhile, Luke and Juliette were riding on horseback towards somewhere safe and preferably hidden in a discreet location. She hadn't said anything more to him since her outburst at the palace, and he didn't bother saying anything else to her while he focused on getting the hell out of there. Occasionally he heard quiet sniffles that were barely audible above the rushing of wind while the rain picked up steadily again, starting to completely soak them both. He considered saying something, but he had figured she was still pissed off that he made her leave without bothering to check and see if her parents were okay all in honor of her safety.

The wind began to howl in his ears, the steady beat of rain drumming against dirt roads as the horse's hooves splashed in the mud puddles at a rhythmic pace. He focused on those sounds, such as the scenery of the rain completely drenching everything, causing the leaves of trees to drop more rain onto the ground to keep himself sane as he had become completely exhausted and wanted to crash, the adrenaline rush wearing off. He bit his lip as he yanked on the reins to urge the horse to trot faster, wanting to hurry up and find someplace so they could then talk things out and get everything settled.

Juliette shifted herself, leaning more into Luke's chest as the horse trotted faster. The scenery whipped by in Luke's peripheral vision, and he glanced down for a split second to look at Juliette. Her hair was a complete mess, partially from the wind and partially from the events that perspired at the chateau before Luke's arrival. She didn't say anything, as she stared straight ahead with a blank expression on her face, her cheeks rosy and eyes puffy from previously crying. He still didn't bother trying to engage in conversation and instead focused on keeping an eye out for anything that could conceal them long enough to rest.

They passed a few taverns, letting Luke know it would be another few hours before even coming close to Paris and his stomach growled at the thought of eating something warm and freshly made. Juliette looked up at him and he let out a small, almost inaudible sigh as he had the horse slow down and approach a nearby tavern. The horse came to a stop, Luke hopped off and turned around to help Juliette off and she mumbled a quiet "thank you" before rubbing her arms uncomfortably as the rain continued to beat down on them. He used the reins to guide the horse to place a little safer, although there weren't many options. He ended up settling on a spot where the roof had hung over a little bit, looking more like a construction error than anything else.

He looked up at the horse, already forgetting its name due to being overtired and overwhelmed from everything that's happened. He patted its snout as he loosely tied the reins to a torchlight holder. Luke walked back to the front of the tavern where Juliette still stood, looking exhausted and nervous. She looked at him as he approached, his boots squelching in the mud puddles. "What if they recognize me in there and pelt tomatoes at me?" She asked him, biting her bottom lip and looking away from him.

He peeked inside the grimy bar window, squinting in a poor attempt to sort of inconspicuously gauge how many people were inside. He saw several shadows, but he couldn't tell her if it was mostly those who worked inside or customers. "I don't know, but I don't even have anything to give them in exchange for a meal and some whiskey." He glanced back at her as she wrinkled her nose at him, almost disgusted.

"Really? All you care about is getting a drink right now when my parents could be dead?" She scuffed the muddy ground with the toe of her flat, soiling the material. Luke sighed in annoyance as he pinched the bridge of his nose and walked inside, leaving her out there.

The inside of the tavern was low-lit and nearly empty, most of them being grimy older men drinking whiskey and eating a warm meal of what looked like pot roast and potatoes. A bartender glanced up at him while wiping down the counter with a dirty rag and muttering profanities under his breath.

The tavern didn't look horrible. The floors could be swept, and the tables and chairs could be replaced as they were completely worn out and looked as if they would crumble under any amount of weight placed onto them. A swinging wooden washboard like door led into what Luke presumed was the kitchen and behind the bartender, rows of freshly brewed beer and whiskey lined shelves with dusty glasses.

Luke squared his shoulders and approached the bar, brandishing a charismatic smile. "What can I give you in exchange for a meal or two?" His poor attempt at bribery didn't seem to work in the slightest as the man looked up at him.

His shirt was as dirty as Luke's, albeit it wasn't completely soaked from the rain and his hair was more well-kempt. He gave Luke a sour expression as he tossed the rag in an aggressive manner on the counter. "Then you can get the hell out of my tavern and never come back until you have actual money to give me." He crossed his arms over his chest as Luke glanced behind him as the door opened and Juliette entered, looking down at the ground.

She looked nervous and kept fidgeting with her hands which would be a dead giveaway if anyone immediately recognized or even though they knew who she was. She walked up behind Luke and just stood there looking at the ground, still fidgeting with her hands. He smiled nervously at the bartender, his heart thundered in his chest as he hoped that maybe the fact Juliette looked no older than twelve would help their case.

The bartender looked behind Luke suspiciously as he picked up the rag he used on the counters to polish a mug as a young woman brought three to the counter. Luke tried to ignore the man's malpractice with the rag and swallow the bile that rose in his throat as he kept smiling in a sad attempt to cause him to change his mind. "Been on the road for long?" The man asked Luke, setting one mug down and picking up another. He twisted the mug around in his hands, the filthy rag completely coating the small glass.

"Uh yeah, a couple days," Luke lied, flashing another smile. He knew he looked ridiculous now, but he was starving. "We just haven't been able to eat due to not having any money on us, I've been trying to find a decent job for my wife and I." He inwardly cringed at forgetting to call Juliette his daughter so long as no one here caught sight of her face. She had the stature of a child and a young, youthful face even though she was sixteen her face betrayed her age by years.

The bartender nodded simply and said nothing else as he went back to staring at Juliette. "Is she sick?" Luke glanced back in confusion until he saw Juliette violently shaking and that's when he saw her eyes brim with tears as she buried her face into Luke's back.

"We've had a very long day," He finally answered, and the bartender only nodded again and didn't say anything else. Luke started to get agitated when his stomach growled again, and he only wanted to eat something. "Please, sir, could you even just give us one meal to share?"

The bartender rolled his eyes and retreated to the back without saying anything. Luke backed away from the bar, he stumbled but luckily Juliette had moved out the way and helped steady him. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy again, but Luke's shirt was still soaked, and he didn't even realize she was crying so hard into his back.

Luke gingerly placed a hand on her shoulder, looking her in the eyes. "Are you okay?"

She sniffled and used her arm to wipe a few stray tears and snot off her face. "Soon, but not now." She answered, and she quickly lowered her head again as the door leading to the kitchen swung open. Luke looked up and saw the bartender, who carried two plates of food and left them on the table situated in the back corner. He slightly tipped his head at Luke and Juliette before retreating inside the kitchen.

"Well, princess, it's time to eat," He grinned, gingerly taking her small hand and leading her to the table in the corner. She sat in the seat that allowed only her back to be seen, to avoid any sort of recognition while they tried to eat. He sat across from her, immediately digging into the food.

She looked up at him in disgust, as she had only barely touched her food. "When was the last time you ate anything?"

He looked up in thought before answering, "A few days ago, I had to go out for a few days, so I didn't eat anything."

She said nothing else as she slowly ate her food, Luke had already devoured his and merely stared at the grimy floor in silence. He wondered how Alphonse and Adam were doing, now that Robespierre had purchased Alphonse's tavern. He hadn't spoken to Alphonse since the morning he had gotten thrown in jail for the third time, the day Adam had come to bail him out while Alphonse dealt with having his bar bought right from under his nose. "I know my parents offered you the position of taking care of me, but why show up now? I barely saw you around before." Juliette spoke, looking at Luke with curiosity.

He had preferred to keep most of his life private, it helped whenever things got tough. Now he knew he had to keep Juliette safe, even though he only stuck around the chateau before was for food and sleep and barely did what he was supposed to. Luke could admit he felt guilty for what happened today, after all he could've gotten the family out of harm's way had he not been trying to make sure Robespierre wasn't going to kill him. Considering the events of today, he knew deep down he had to trust her. He dragged his hands down his face and sighed heavily. "Robespierre recruited me for the Jacobin Club against my will."

She glared at him, looking as if she wanted to slam her hands down on the table and get in his face and scream at him. He couldn't blame her, but he figured after the words slipped out of his mouth he should've led on with something else prior to saying that. "Look, I don't want to work for Robespierre, okay? He hasn't done a god damn thing for me except make my life a living hell."

"Then why the fuck did you take the job for my family?" She growled, her voice low. No one in the tavern was looking at them, which Luke was heavily thankful for. He couldn't give her a good enough answer that wouldn't make her want to punch him in the face, but he knew he needed to be truthful.

"Juliette, almost my entire life has been spent living on the streets trying to take care of myself. Things were going fine until this whole revolutionary idea happened, causing everything to go to shit and I needed food and a place to stay." He kept the explanation brief, because he knew she was never going to forgive him for this. Luke didn't blame her, but they were going to be trying to survive together until he could find something out about her parents. Deep down, he knew Robespierre was going to find a way to execute her parents which meant he needed to keep Juliette away from this all for her own safety.

She shook her head in an aggravated manner and finished eating her meal. She stood up from the table and walked out, all the while keeping her head down. Luke wanted to follow her immediately, but he needed to thank the bartender first. He approached the bar where the bartender was fiddling with something underneath the counter. It wasn't until he stood up that Luke noticed he was pocketing the money patrons had given him.

"Can I help you?" The bartender said gruffly, looking at him in distaste. Luke just smiled at him, trying to figure out why he was acting this way from stealing money unless he wasn't even the owner of the establishment. Instead he commented nothing on that, and just told the man thank you and left.

It had stopped raining, but the dirt roads were muddy, and puddles were sprawled across the street and Juliette was standing against the building and eyeing a mud puddle in disgust. She didn't notice Luke stood next to her until he awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Listen, I feel really bad and I don't expect you to forgive me or even understand but I'm sorry." He cupped the back of his neck with his left hand and held out his right in attempts for a handshake to declare a truce. She sighed, took his head and shook it.

"It's been a long day; can we just find somewhere to sleep tonight and head to Paris in the morning?" She suggested after letting his hand go. "I understand my parents are probably dead and it's my fault, but I need rest, so we can figure things out."

Luke nodded, walking around the mud puddle to find the horse. Surprisingly, it was still sitting there despite the fact someone from the tavern could've easily taken it. It was a nice horse that Robespierre most likely paid big money for, and it was a miracle it was still there. He untied the horse from the torch light, guiding it towards the front of the tavern.

"She's still here?" Juliette asked, hoisting herself up. She patted the horse's mane as Luke climbed on behind her, taking hold of reins before they started moving.

"Evidently so, keep an eye out for someplace that looks abandoned, so we can rest tonight," Luke said as they broke into a faster trot. She only nodded her head, looking straight ahead but likely darting her eyes back and forth in search of someplace where they could rest.

Mud splashed up against the side of the horse, soaking Luke's trousers and shoes. The air was damp with humidity around them, sweat had already broken out across his brow and he was getting even more tired as dusk fell. Juliette still hadn't spotted anything even though they've been on horseback for nearly an hour and they were getting closer to small villages that should've had at least a barn or shed. "I don't think we're going to find anything, we might have to ride until we reach Paris," Luke shouted, just loud enough so she could hear him clearly as he urged the horse to go faster.

"Wait, I think I see something!" She shouted, pointing up ahead at a little shack that had no light surrounding it.

Its black shadow loomed over in the moonlight, looking almost sinister. He tugged on the reins enough to have the horse trot slowly over to the seemingly abandoned place. He got off the horse, once she was fully stopped a little way away from it. Luke looked back at Juliette, signaling for her to stay here while he checked the place out. He broke into a sprint, reaching the little shack in just a couple minutes. He approached the abandoned building with caution, peeking inside the little broken window and thankfully finding it empty. "It's safe!" He yelled, opening the door while Juliette guided the horse closer.

He walked inside, finding broken furniture and evidence of someone living here. The place had a musty smell to it, and dust loomed in the air above them as Juliette entered. She was still holding the reins of the horse. "I don't feel comfortable leaving her outside in case of anything, we merely got lucky at the tavern." She stared at the dirty floor meekly while Luke walked further inside, looking around.

"Alright, we need to find some water and maybe a carrot or something while we're at it. She hasn't eaten unlike us, I didn't even think of it until now," Luke scratched the stubble on his chin and looked back at her, but she had led the horse fully inside and closed the door and wasn't paying any attention to him. He cleared his throat and she finally looked at him. "Um, we need to find something to feed the horse and there's only one bed. It's a little small and dirty if you ask me."

She let go of the reins of the horse and walked towards him, eyeing the bed in front of them. They both stared at the tiny straw mattress in front of them, a small, thin cotton blanket loosely tossed that had been sitting there for who knows how long. "How is this supposed to work?" She looked at Luke, her blue eyes like that of a child, wide and curious.

"I'll sleep on the floor, you take the bed," He quipped, plopping himself down on the dirty floor. He eyed his surroundings for something to lay his head even though he was probably the dirtiest he had ever been, and he felt uncomfortable. Almost too uncomfortable to even lie down and sleep for the night. The horse huffed and pawed its hoof at the ground while Juliette was curled up into a tight ball on the bed, already lightly snoring and fast asleep.

He sighed, slowly lying down and using his right arm as support for his head. He stared at the straw peeking out of the mattress and looked at the way the moonlight cast an eerie glow across the small building that someone once called home. He shifted a little, hearing the wood floorboards loosely placed on the ground creak and he cringed. Juliette poked her head up, the sound likely awakening her.

"Why don't you just sleep up here? You need rest too," She suggested, and Luke wanted to say yes but, in the event, they got caught here, her reputation would be ruined, and Luke could either be jailed or killed. She sighed, seeing his uncomfortable facial expression. "I doubt anyone's going to catch us and get the wrong idea, come on we both need the sleep."

And so, he caved, talk of sleep being too tempting.


	11. onze.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robespierre's wife learns of his insanity while Luke and Juliette head back to Paris

Robespierre paced back and forth in his study, pondering in angry silence. He felt like tearing what little hair he had left out from sheer frustration, but he didn't and instead grumbled incoherent phrases even to himself under his breath. He was alone in the study, but he felt like the demons in his mind were incarnated in front of him, laughing and taunting and pointing their shadowy pointy fingers at him, as if he was some sort of pathetic human being. Robespierre supposed he truly was a pathetic human being, after all he nearly killed two men in the last few days without a second thought of what the repercussions could be and it made him want to scream at the sky for as long as he possibly could until he felt like all the darkness in him evaporated with the breath he wasted screaming. He didn't know what else to do or who to even talk to about it, so he kept quiet and silently went mad while everyone around him looked on in horror without saying another word.

While he was going through his various tangents in anger inside of his mind as to not be heard by his wife, a soft knock was heard. He snapped his head up at once, the angry voices seeming to quiet down at once while he stared at the door as, yet another knock was heard. "Darling? Are you okay?" the soft-spoken voice of his wife could be heard on the other side. He imagined her gently placing an ear to the door to hear him properly, her red hair all prim and proper while she was completely ready for the day while Robespierre himself was in filthy clothes and hadn't slept in days; he looked like he belonged in an insane asylum and truly he did as he was not well and it was becoming noticeable with each passing day.

"Yes, dear," He snapped, he grimaced after those poisonous words left his mouth. He wanted to slap himself upside the head until he was no longer angry. He felt guilty the second the words left his mouth, but he was sure the damage had been done until she opened the door.

"Darling, you haven't slept in days. What's wrong?" She pressed, walking over to him and running her nimble fingers up and down his arm in what was supposed to be a calming and supportive gesture, but it only came off as provocative instead. He flinched and stepped back, feeling uncomfortable at the fact that while they had only been married a couple of days they had yet to consummate their marriage. She looked appalled, taking a step back as well. "What in the name of hell has happened to you?"

He shook his head, feeling the angry voices pop back into his head again. He kept shaking his head as if he was trying to literally shake out the demonic voices that possessed him and failing quite miserably while tears pooled in his eyes as he became rather frustrated at the fact he was going insane and he couldn't stop it. "I-I-I-I don't know...please help me," He sobbed, collapsing to his knees and grasping onto the skirts of her dress and staring up at her.

She stood still, looking rather shocked and almost disgusted. "I don't know what has gotten into you, maybe you need to go away for a while." She gulped and looked everywhere else but directly at him. He sobbed even harder, feeling like a disgusting mess while she gently untangled his fingers from the skirts of her dress and walked away calmly. Katrine looked back one last time before she gently shook her head and shut the door quietly behind her.

"I think I've gone mad," He murmured, staring at his hands through blurry vision. He kept muttering the same phrase over and over in a pathetic and sad tone while he was alone. He couldn't get himself to stop until he eventually fell asleep as exhaustion took over and he finally keeled over and crashed.

~

Thin rays of sunshine peeked through the boarded-up windows, hairline streams of light casting shadows onto Luke's face while he stared at the roof deep in thought. He had woken up first, while Juliette quietly slept, and Marmalade pawed at the ground. He felt uncomfortable sharing the bed with a woman he wasn't supposed to be seen with and the fact he was not wed or even close to being engaged to be wed. A cold feeling settled over him, anxiety coursing through his veins at the mere thought of anyone even finding them alone together in this tiny little shack that didn't dare to be called a home.

He slightly turned his head, admiring the way she slept so peacefully even though yesterday was absolute hell on earth, complete chaos that was a miracle she even slept. He turned his head back to where he stared at the roof, cracks peeking through the rotting wood, casting even more light into the tiny little shack. He held his clasped hands in the center of his stomach, knotting them together until they felt clammy and his sweaty fingers slipped through each other continuously, a rather strange anxious habit he's developed over the years. Sweat clung to his back, the mud on his trousers sticking to his skinny legs and feeling dreadfully uncomfortable. The rain from yesterday made him shiver, still feeling the bitter cold on his skin from the damp rain that completely soaked the two of them and the fact the wind from riding on a horse as far as they could possibly go, nipping at his skin every second for hours; it was exhausting.

Juliette stirred beside him, and his breath hitched in his throat as he imagined the rotting door slamming open ready to drag him clawing his way at the ground in a sad and futile attempt to break through as they drug him to the Bastille, ready to castrate him for violating a young woman, even if it wasn't true in the slightest. She sat up, cocking her head to the side after she looked around the shack in confusion as if yesterday never even happened even if Luke desperately wished it weren't true. "What happened?" She asked, rubbing at her eyes as she quietly yawned.

He sighed, sitting up a bit so there was a bit more room between the two of them. "Your parents were taken from Versailles to Paris. I'm not sure where they were taken, but when we return to Paris I can investigate, and we can get some answers," He responded, hoping it would clarify the many questions she was sure to have, considering she was clearly in denial. She wrinkled her nose, laughing darkly as if it weren't true as if it wasn't possible that something like that could even happen.

"It's not possible, absolutely no way that could have ever even happened." She dragged her filthy hands down her face and grimaced as some of the dirt rubbed off on her face. Her expression was repulsed, as if she had woken up in the Cour des Miracles with an amputated foot, loosely wrapped in filthy and bloody bandages.

"If only that were true," Luke murmured, low enough to where she couldn't have possibly heard him, but she did. Her eyes watered with tears that refused to fall, and he once again felt guilty for dragging her out of there while her family was volleyed with numerous death threats and having their ego tarnished right in front of their very eyes while they were dragged away from their home by the poorest and wealthiest of France alike.

She jumped up, her satin flats ruined and her feet practically bare on the grimy floor as she paced back and forth numerous times. She kept muttering, "This can't be real" repeatedly, dragging her hands both through her hair and down her face as she avoided eye contact with Luke. He didn't know what else to say, so he kept his mouth shut and stared at the window in front of him, turning his head from side to side ever so slightly to see how the light caught in the cracks between the rotting planks of wood hastily nailed to the window. "How are you even sitting there when my family's reputation was completely destroyed yesterday?" She snapped, glaring at him from across the room.

He sighed again, dragging his hands down his face in an exaggerated manner as if mocking her only mere seconds before she snapped at him. "We need to head to Paris, I understand you're upset but we have to leave."

"What about my family?" She stepped closer, narrowing her eyes. Her eyes were still puffy from all the crying yesterday, which replaced the numbness that took over moments before she fell asleep with sheer anger and annoyance. She had done a complete turn in personality and the way she acted towards him, which didn't surprise him at all. The chaos of yesterday was sure to give her nightmares that would have her waking up in cold sweats every time she thought about yesterday while she tried to dream peacefully. After all the trauma Luke had gone through in his life, he didn't know how to comfort her, as guilty as he felt watching her unravel from the seemingly perfect princess with the family who seemed to have it all, he could do nothing but stare at her and murmur the occasional seemingly sarcastic remark. It was like he was apathetic towards her situation on the outside while on the inside he was teeming with guilt that gnawed in the pit of his stomach like an angry demon wanting to be unleashed.

"I promise you, we'll figure it out. You have to trust me," He said kindly, softly placing a hand on her shoulder. Her angered expression softened a bit, as she sighed and looked down in defeat.

He was merely a little boy; scared and alone. He held his mother's clammy hand in his, while his bright blue eyes looked at her in childlike wonder while she tried to muster a small smile that looked like a painful grimace instead. Her forehead was sheenly laced in sweat, her clammy hand trying to grip his with what little strength she had left. "I promise you, everything will be okay. You have your older brother." She took her hand from Luke's to run her fingers slowly through his long blonde locks. Her painful grimace turned into a small smile for only a split second as she grabbed his hand again, tracing circles on her son's pudgy hand very slowly.

"Mama, why do you have to go?" He mumbled, and he could've sworn he saw tears form in her eyes while she tried to find the words to say. He sat there and stared at her as she let out a soft sigh.

"Things happen for a reason, my love. I promise you'll be okay with Jack to take care of you," She whispered, chuckling slightly. He pouted, seeming disappointed with her answer. The little boy was only four and hadn't yet grasped the concept of death. In his mind, his mother was going to get better and not die of dysentery and he assumed his father had only taken a trip out of the country when instead he and his brother were victims of wedlock. They weren't legitimate children as his mother was merely a mistress to a wealthier man and abandoned to take care of two boys on her own, her reputation was tarnished, and they struggled to survive and just barely scrape by each day.

"Mama, I don't like that answer." He pouted, taking his hand away from hers to cross his arms and stare at the ground in dissatisfaction. She tried to sigh but ended up letting out a series of rattled breaths and ended up coughing when trying to catch her breath.

She let out one more rattled breath before she fell silent. Luke looked up at his mother, confused when lifeless eyes stared back at him. He looked around for his brother, before realizing he was alone while his brother tried to find him something to eat. "Mama?" He questioned, shaking her lifeless body. She was still warm, but she didn't answer or even flutter her eyes. "Mama?" He repeated, his tone growing more and more desperate as he continued to shake her and ended up with no answer.

He started to cry. He continued to cry while he laid his head on his mother's bed, still holding her hand when his brother returned to their home, or shall I say the home of a family who hadn't lived there in ages, with food.

"What happened to Mama?" His brother asked, crouching to hold his little brother in his arms. The little boy started to sob again, looking at his elder brother with teary eyes. Jack held his younger brother while they both mourned the loss of their mother, who was the light at the end of a very dark tunnel for the two boys.

"Luke?" Juliette repeated, rubbing her hand up and down Luke's arm while he had completely blanked out. He blinked a couple of times as if it would help forget about that nightmare of a flashback he had barely thought of in years.

"Sorry," He apologized, walking away from her to approach Marmalade. "Shall we get on the road?"

Juliette rolled her eyes, annoyed that he ignored her question. If they were going to be with each other frequently in lieu of recent events, she figured they should become more comfortable with each other to avoid any sort of tension. He got everything situated and led Marmalade outside and she followed right behind him. Luke helped her climb onto the back of the horse, getting on right behind her before Marmalade began to trot away from the abandoned little shack and towards Paris, where a great unknown that would lead to more betrayal and heartache than any of them would ever know.


	12. douze.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke and Juliette head to cour des miracles

At night Paris gave off the facade of a sleepy city, the illusion of one that wasn't plagued with revolutionary spirits and chaos. Juliette hadn't ventured to Paris since she was a small child, having been stuck at the Versailles palace much of her life while her parents dealt with court related matters. The last time she was in Paris, she recalled seeing a dead body floating down the Seine, asking her father all sorts of morbid questions about death as it had piqued her curiosity and small four-year old mind. Her father had merely laughed at her and dismissed all her questions by tempting her with sweets while they took on the journey to Paris, a family outing that was meant for publicity to showcase the family lifestyle.

She rubbed at her eyes, trying to awaken herself from her daze as she stared straight ahead. The paved cobblestone road in front of her was littered with gun powder and rags from what looked like torn French flags and she was absolutely disgusted. She glanced back at Luke, who seemed unfazed as if he had dealt first hand with this for ages. Juliette quickly realized she knew absolutely nothing about him, it was rather strange that the young man didn't bother saying anything about himself to her while she had opened to him. She confided in him with her fears about her family, relieving some of her pent-up anxiety while he remained stoic and cold, almost distant. There was something sort of off about him, as if the man had been through so much trauma he would rather not let anyone in and seemed like he would rather saw off his hand than bare even a little bit of his soul to someone else.

"Once we sneak Marmalade back into the stables we have to walk on foot, alright?" He murmured, his deep voice reverberating in his chest, which her back was pressed against. She merely nodded, her hair becoming frizzy and knotted from not being combed while the rest of her body was completely filthy. She had never experienced this before, after all she was a privileged child who was the heir to the throne as she possessed no brothers to take control. Now that was all taken away from her, and she was left impoverished and alone, stuck with a man she knew nothing about other than the fact he was ordered to protect her with his life.

He turned down a few alleys that held no light even from the moon or a spare torch, but she saw several sleeping bodies heaved over out of sight, tucked in a corner sound asleep in the corner of her eye. She was fascinated by how peaceful they slept on the dirt, while she could barely fathom that she slept on a filthy mattress in an abandoned shack alone with a man she barely knew. Everything around her was changing much too fast and she wasn't even sure how she should even feel about it. It was such a foreign feeling resting in the pit of her stomach that made her feel uncomfortable, she wasn't used to change she was used to things being a certain way for so long that this was unnatural.

She dozed off for a minute, what felt like a few mere seconds turned out to be much longer when she was jolted awake by Luke. She rubbed her tired eyes and as her eyesight adjusted to the now torch lit darkness, she instantly recognized Robespierre's house. Juliette glanced back at Luke, who was clambering off the horse as quickly and quietly as possible while she was still very bewildered and groggy from her much-needed nap. "Are we going to get caught?" She whispered as Luke picked her up and set her gently on the ground, quickly grabbing the reins and guiding Marmalade to the stable. He held a finger to his lips while he cautiously walked backwards towards the stables not too far away.

She surveyed her surroundings, admiring the facade of the house. It was obvious Robespierre had money, anyone could see it and she could only wonder what the inside of the house looked like. She pondered for a moment, envisioning the gold banisters of the Versailles chateau, the gold trim on the gates entering the palace gleaming in the sunlight, the large windows that brought in beautiful sunlight that casted everything in an orangish glow. Juliette began to feel sad in that moment, knowing she would never again step foot into the home she had grown to love so fondly. She pinched herself, trying to make sure this was not some feverish dream but sadly, it was.

"Are you ready to go?" He spoke softly, almost appearing beside her in an instant. She nodded her head slightly in response, not wanting to utter a single word in fear that she would break down into a fit of violent sobs, as she became more morose by the second. Thinking was not her strong suit, she had the ability to become enraptured with thoughts about anything and everything and she struggled to be able to snap out of them in an instant without feeling some sort of nostalgic emotion that caused her to become sad. Her sadness always lingered too, it was a problem she had struggled with for as long as she could remember.

He placed a hand gently on her elbow and guided her away from Robespierre's home, and it took everything she had to not look back and wonder what things would have been like had Robespierre not riled thousands of citizens up on his own. Robespierre had helped lead to the destruction of the French monarchy and tore apart Juliette's home and the only stability she had ever known in the process. In a way, she was relieved that she no longer had the burden of carrying an entire country on her shoulders in the near future, but she wished it never happened like this. More than anything, she wanted her family back together again.

They walked the moonlit streets in silence, neither able to find the words to say to keep a conversation going. They were both starving and exhausted, but neither had the means to pay for a nice meal or find a warm bed to sleep in for the night. It was in the dead of night; the streets of Paris were silent, and it was the only time the beautiful city had ever seen peace in the span of twenty-four hours. The dead of night seemed to be the magic hours for Paris, when everything was still, and the only thing left behind was the mass destruction caused by its citizens in the day.

"Where will we go next?" She looked up at him, waiting for a response but it seemed that he too, was deeply lost in thought. He was much taller than her, and she always knew that, but she never seemed to realize how tall he was. He seemed to be taller than most of the men in this country, he was an anomaly, and she wondered exactly how tall he stood.

He caught her staring up at him and looked down, "Did you ask something?"

"I asked where we will go next," She responded, looking away and eyeing a broken tavern sign lying in the road a few feet away from her. It was broken into pieces, splinters of wood surrounding the sign. She was both shocked and numbed to the destruction taking place in the city, as she was oblivious to what happened outside the chateau she was metaphorically imprisoned to her entire life. Luke, however, seemed unfazed as if he was completely and totally numbed to the craziness that had engulfed France.

"For tonight, we'll have to find a temporary spot," He responded, clasping his hands behind his back and stopping in the middle of the street. He surveyed their surroundings, thinking. He was thinking of what place could possibly be safe enough for tonight that would allow them to calculate their next move. Her heartbeat thundered in her chest again, the longer he seemed to stand there the longer her heart thudded and felt like it was about to burst inside her chest.

He squinted, walking closer to an alleyway that at first glance seemed empty. He turned around and motioned for her to follow, signaling that the coast was clear. Her sore feet ached as she followed him down the dark and foul-smelling alleyway. She longed to be in her soft and cushioned bed, with its various blankets and multitude of pillows. Tears formed in the corner of her eye as she became homesick yet again. Luke had to have been tired of her constantly crying already, even though he seemed completely oblivious to her mood swings. "We're going to have to tough out the cour des miracles just for tonight."

"What if they try to saw off one my limbs?" She remarked, her skin beginning to crawl at the thought of waking up and seeing a disgusting, raggedy beggar looming over her.

Luke chuckled, rolling his eyes. Juliette did not find it funny in the slightest, as the image seemed to be burned inside her mind. "You'll be okay, it is the most disgusting and vile place in Paris, but it is our safest bet for the moment."

She did not feel much better in the slightest, the only thing she was thankful for was the fact she was not alone in this. Granted, he did have it better because he could walk the Parisian streets freely without worry that someone was going to murder him in the streets because of who she was. Little did she know; this man was in far much more trouble than she could have ever realized.

They walked on the bridge to cross the Seine river, the smell of human feces reaching her nose and she had to try hard to resist the urge to vomit. She never expected Paris to smell this bad, granted she barely left the palace her entire life. The smell didn't seem to bother Luke in the slightest. The man seemed immune to all the things she considered horrific as they walked down the streets in silence, she envied him for it.

"I am going to forewarn you, if you cannot handle the smell of the river you won't be able to handle the smell of the cour des miracles." He stopped once they got off the bridge, the smell a little better now. This was the first in a while he was looking at her while talking, the first time they fully stopped to have a conversation without being on the move. The moonlight cast a white glow on his blonde hair, a shadow from his tall and lanky figure looming behind him. It was evident he was malnourished, and she felt guilty, knowing the cause of so many people in France starving was because of her family.

She quirked a smile, attempting to lighten the mood a little now that she herself was feeling slightly better. "How bad are we talking?" He grimaced, as if reflecting on the putrid smell was going to make him vomit. Maybe he was not as immune to these smells as she once thought.

"Rotting flesh is what you'll smell, and blood, urine, and feces," He let out a laugh, although it was quiet as if to not disturb the peace in the streets. She wrinkled her nose in disgust as she started walking around, just wanting to take a nap. Juliette would rather get the smell over with and work on another plan that hopefully involved somewhere cleaner and she silently hoped that it included soft, warm beds.

He caught up to her, eventually walking in front of her to show the way. She became lost in thought, envisioning all sorts of gruesome things she had hoped to not encounter during their stay in the cour des miracles. He stopped in his tracks several feet ahead, giving her an awkward smile which to her meant that they had arrived.

Once she caught a whiff of the smell, she vomited.


	13. treize.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke heads to Alphonse to help out with his...predicament

The cour des miracles were just as nasty as he remembered. Behind him, Juliette continued to vomit from the wretched stench that flooded the surrounding area while beggars watched in horror. He was not quite sure what else to do, as he was quite used to the horrible smell from the countless nights he stayed there looking for a place to sleep, so he stood there and watched uncomfortably. Once she stopped, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and just stood there and for a moment Luke thought she was going to vomit again. She didn't, eventually walking over to him.

"The stench is much worse than I originally anticipated," She wheezed, her face morbidly pale. She was completely out of breath, and the smell of her vomit wafted towards the two of them and Luke wrinkled his nose in sheer disgust but stifled the urge to puke.

"Are you alright?" He asked her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. She smiled weakly, her eyes darting towards the beggars sitting just outside the cour des miracles, watching suspiciously.

She turned her face away from them, to not be recognized. "Yeah, I'm alright for now." Juliette shivered as a cool breeze blew by, and exhaustion was prevalent in their eyes. Luke decided they had enough time standing around and decided to guide her slowly towards the entrance.

The beggars sitting outside, leaned against the wall, merely looked at them. Their heaps of stolen blankets reeked, their cheeks caked in dirt, and one of them was missing a hand. Filthy blood-soaked bandages covered the stump where a hand once stood, and Luke tried his best to avoid eye contact. Juliette caught Luke eyeing the stump as they walked in, and he heard her gagging and trying her best not to vomit or better yet, not even think about what she just saw. "Try not think about it, we'll find somewhere better tomorrow, I promise you," he assured, and she didn't say anything.

A small hut, that seemed abandoned due to how dark it was inside and outside, stood nestled against an abandoned storefront. The smell had only intensified, and it was evident Juliette was having a hard time coping with the smells and the horrors she saw. Near a torch, a man smiled almost sinisterly while he sawed off a man's foot. The man getting his foot amputated bit hard on filthy gauze, to muffle his screams while the other seemed completely unfazed at the fact he was sawing someone's foot off with a rusty saw covered in dried blood. Juliette vomited again. People around them stared and Luke quickly ushered her away from the horrific sight, finding a secluded corner with hardly any beggars.

They both sat down, and Juliette tucked her knees up to her chest, slightly rocking back and forth while she stared straight ahead. Luke leaned against the building, the splinters of the makeshift entrance to the cour des miracles digging into the thin cotton of his shirt. "Are you alright?" He tried asking again, hoping she'd answer but she continued to rock back and forth and stare straight ahead. He blew out a sigh, feeling agitated and lost. He had no clue what to do next, and it felt as if the weight of France was on his shoulders. In a sense, it truly was as he was working for the royals while being Robespierre's slave. However, he was not great at working for Robespierre as he spent much of his time at the chateau, where he had food to eat and a bed to sleep at night. Robespierre was probably driving himself mad being unable to find Luke, but frankly he didn't care one bit.

Juliette dozed off eventually, tiring herself of rocking back and forth. She never once spoke to Luke, and eventually he gave up trying to speak to her and make sure she was doing alright. Evidently, she was not doing alright and was clearly in shock, but he couldn't help himself but to ask her anyways. Luke too wanted to sleep, but he couldn't bring himself to do so when he had no idea where else they could hide and sleep that wasn't downright filthy. Beggars around him stared, almost entranced by the sleeping figure of Juliette, apparently even with a hood over her head she was still recognizable. Seems as if Luke's job was only going to get harder over time.

He was freezing, each time the wind blew a chill ran down his spine. They had no blankets and finding the shack off to the side of the road was by sheer luck, they were even lucky its original owners or some bloody Jacobin loyalist did not show up and drag them to the Bastille. However, while Juliette peacefully slept, Luke found it hard to get truly comfortable enough to sleep. Sure, he had slept overnight at Katrine's after an evening of passionate lovemaking and sneaking around, but the circumstances surrounding Juliette was completely different. Katrine was rich, the servants in her family's estate or anyone in her family for that matter, entered her room without knocking first which made it ten times easier. Juliette and Luke were not to be seen with each other, as the citizens of France were out for blood when it came to the royals.

Several feet away, a group of beggars huddled around a makeshift fire, but they stared Luke dead in the eyes while they did so. The simple act of staring unnerved Luke to his core, never in a million years, had he ever experienced this while in the cour des miracles. He began to become slightly paranoid, wondering if he was about to be spat on, possibly beaten to death, all because in a way he really was a royalist. No one who was against the royal family would be smuggling the crown princess around France and looking after her while her parents rotted in a prison awaiting certain death. He glanced back at Juliette, who was still asleep with her knees tucked close to her chest and her face buried into her dress skirt covering her skinny legs. He looked around at the beggars surrounding them, finally avoiding eye contact and either having hushed conversations about ways to con higher class citizens for money or dozing off. Luke stood up, approaching the beggars around the fire. They all eyed him with suspicion.

"What the hell are you doing here?" one of the men said gruffly, upon closer inspection the man's unruly beard was matted with dried blood. He pondered why the man was covered in dried blood and the theories he had come up with disgusted him to his core. He tried to push those thoughts out of mind when he realized he had zoned out and the men were eyeing him with disgust.

"Like the rest of you lot, I don't have a home either," He responded with a slight nonchalant shrug of the shoulders. He stared at the burning of the fire, the warmth radiating throughout his entire chilled body. He closed his eyes, letting the flames continue to warm him as he awaited another response from one of the beggars.

"Bullshit, you're doing something illegal," the same man who spoke first rolled his eyes at Luke's audacity for stepping foot in here. Luke had never seen him before and had an inkling that he might be new here, or perhaps a spy for Robespierre as it would not surprise him in the slightest. He was too hyper-vigilant and suspicious of anyone and everything these days, both a good and bad trait to have but one that annoyed him nonetheless.

Luke scoffed, almost too loudly as several sleeping beggars in the surrounding area stirred. "What the hell makes you say that?"

Another one spoke this time, one who's frame was so wiry and thin that the old man looked as if he was about to topple over at any given second. He was encased in a disgusting old shawl, his nimble blue and purple fingers curled at the fraying seems to hold in warmth as much as possible. "We don't see you around here much anymore, you used to frequent whenever running became too much." This man, Luke had seen but it had been a while. What the man said was true, since hiding out from the Jacobin Club in the company of the royals he had no need for the cour des miracles. Although, he found it rather odd that these men were offended when all he had ever used the place for was a place to sleep while he traveled around Paris in search of food.

"I've been finding more suitable places to sleep, no offense," He offered the men a kindhearted smile, although none of them accepted his half-assed apology. They all rolled their eyes and huddled closer together, essentially kicked him out of their little circle without saying another word to him.

He sighed in frustration and headed back towards the little corner where Juliette still slept peacefully. She had not stirred one bit, and he was envious of how peaceful and easily she slept. He decided to try to do the same, but he could not seem to fall asleep as he was afraid that the second he closed his eyes someone would hurt him or Juliette.

Hours had passed, the sun had risen, and Luke Hemmings still had not slept. Even though it had been hours since he had last slept, he did not feel tired as the paranoia seemed to keep him wide awake. At the time he was forever grateful for it, but he knew he would come to regret it later when crucial decisions would need to be made and he would be too sleep deprived to think with a clear mind. Juliette had begun to wake up while the beggars around them still peacefully slept. Her eyes were glazed from the hard sleep she had awoken from, although she looked immensely refreshed compared to Luke.

"How did you sleep?" He inquired, helping her stand up so they could think of an escape plan. She thanked him once she was to her feet and dusted off the front of her dress. She looked at the people around them, almost admiring the way they continued to peacefully sleep while in front of her, Luke looked exhausted and uncomfortable.

"Fine, and as suggested by the look upon your face you slept horribly or perhaps not at all," She remarked, and Luke was astonished at her guessing. Although, to be quite contrite, it was heavily obvious he hadn't had a decent night's sleep, so he brushed it off.

Without saying anything, he started walking towards the entrance of the cour des miracles. Juliette hurried over to him, hiding behind his back in the event an early morning citizen might spot and immediately recognize her. Luke held an arm out, to signal for her to stay back even though that is what she was already doing. "We need to find someplace safe, someplace that offers food, but we have to be extremely careful." He urged as they stepped out of the cour of miracles, although the horrendous stench still lingered in both of their noses much to their dismay.

The sun gleamed in the sky, the swirl of colors from sunrise still lingering like someone's shadow. The Seine sparkled as the light reflected off it and buildings, many of them trashed due to riots, were washed into a pale white, the paint chipping off the buildings as well to reveal the rotting wooden bones. The facade for Paris was diminishing, making it a place that resembled something out of a nightmare as citizens fought for change that came with radical riots and bloodbaths. It was wrong for the citizens to behave in this manner, being fascinated with the invention of the guillotine and immediately wanting the royals' heads to be on pikes and placed on display while the citizens jeered and gave a massive hurrah! Luke could not believe that he let Robespierre sucker him into the Jacobin Club, although if he refused his brains would have been splattered on that barn floor and no one would know the circumstances surrounding his death causing Robespierre's insanity to go even more unnoticed than it already was.

They walked in complete silence, even though conversation would have likely snapped Luke out of the exhausting lull he was trapped in. He walked aimlessly through the streets, seeing citizens slowly start to come out of their homes, all angry first thing in the morning as their stomachs raged for food that they were all too poor to afford. Luke smiled at some of them, even though they glared at him and then eyed Juliette in suspicion as she kept her head tucked low to avoid eye contact at all costs. He supposed it was exceedingly obvious there was something off about the pair, but he would rather they assume he was fucking her than merely smuggling her through Paris to avoid the guillotine, a fate in which her parents had already accepted without quite knowing it yet.

Juliette knotted her fist into the back of Luke's shirt and through the thin material, he could feel her hand violently shaking. He wanted to stop in the middle of walking to ask what was wrong, but he knew it would only make the suspicion worse, so he continued walking without saying a word. He figured he could take Juliette to Alphonse's, even though he highly doubted the man would agree considering he lost his tavern and was likely on the verge of losing his home as well.

He turned down several streets before they arrived. The red paint in the front of Alphonse's small apartment was chipping away, just like the front of every single building in the city. He entered without knocking, as he had done many times before. Something savory from the back of the kitchen filled the entire apartment, causing Luke's stomach to growl. "Alphonse? Marie?" He called, hoping for an answer.

Alphonse, from the back of the apartment, poked his head around the corner. His face gleamed the second he made eye contact with Luke and he immediately darted over to him. Juliette let go of Luke's shirt. Alphonse embraced Luke into a warm and hearty hug, chuckling to himself all the while. "How have you been, boy?" He pulled back and looked at Luke like a proud father. Although, Luke supposed Alphonse truly was like a father figure to him considering he had no one else much of his life.

"I've been...alright," He paused, unsure in his words, "However, I have a massive favor to ask of you."

Alphonse dismissively waved a hand, "Bah! We can discuss it later, come Marie has served up some stew." He went to walk back towards the kitchen when he stopped, shifting to eye the figure of Juliette standing behind Luke. "Boy, tell me you haven't begun another affair in such short time after the Katrine ordeal?"

Luke's face turned bright red, as Juliette had no clue about Luke's past as they've never talked about themselves than what was already known. "No, no, sir, I promise you I have not." He laughed nervously and scratched the back of his head, his hair already matted and oily in a mere matter of days since his last proper bath.

"Then what the hell is she doing with you them, hm?" He pursued, wanting to desperately know an answer immediately even though the subject matter made Luke's skin crawl. Luke wanted so desperately to blurt out the entire truth, but he wanted to bring it up gently, so Alphonse was more inclined to accept the favor and help Luke out majorly.

"I'll explain in due time, I promise you," Luke pushed past him without another word before turning around with a smile in attempts to lighten the mood, "You said Marie brewed some stew, didn't you?"


	14. quatorze.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alphonse agrees to help, but Luke ends up in a dangerous situation.

They entered the small kitchen, where Marie stood over a pot of stew. She smiled warmly as the three of them entered, Alphonse still distraught of the girl who was with Luke. The more Alphonse stared at her, the more Juliette felt alarmingly uncomfortable, although for Luke this was nothing, he knew this man. She, however, did not. She wanted to go home. She longed to be back with the countless servants and her parents, away from it all. Juliette knew her being with Luke would only bring him nothing but trouble.

As the three of them sat down at the small wooden table in an already small kitchen, there was a tense silence. They looked at each other, as if beckoning the other to break the silence and speak first. Yet, none of them spoke. This little game continued even as Marie placed three bowls of steaming hot stew in front of them without saying a word to any of them. Once she retreated from the kitchen, it was Luke who finally broke the silence just as Juliette initially suspected. "You cannot say anything about who I am with if I tell you, alright?" Alphonse looked distraught, licking his lips and pondering for a moment.

"What do you mean?" He leaned forward, the bowl of stew moved a couple inches across the table. Juliette ate her stew in silence, peering into it while the two men continued their conversation. She wanted no part in this as it was already rather awkward, she felt out of place and uncomfortable and she knew the feeling would only get worse from here on out.

Luke sighed, clasping his hands together and leaning on them for support. His chin rested on his hands while he looked out the window and contemplated what to say next. A hardened expression was upon his face, making him exceedingly difficult to read and it caused Juliette to become even more nervous. "I accepted a job. I want to say it was a few days, maybe even a couple weeks after Katrine and Robespierre's party at the chateau." He paused and licked his lips. "I promised...someone that I would protect their daughter at all costs."

"Just spit it out, lad," Alphonse sighed, massaging his temples. His round-framed glasses slipped down his nose and he hastily pushed them up as Luke opened his mouth to speak again but then, as always, faltered.

"I am really not sure how to word this next part." Luke bit his lip and ate some stew while he thought. Alphonse was getting impatient, and to be frank, Juliette could not blame him for doing so. Even though the subject matter was tense, stalling would only make things worse the longer he kept going.

"He means to say I am Juliette Capet, former crown princess of the French monarchy," She murmured as she swallowed the last spoonful of stew. "And he is only here asking for your help." Both men looked at her in shock, even though she only spoke to help Luke out a bit, neither of them expected her to say anything.

Alphonse turned to Luke, with a look of shock and horror upon his face. "Son, are you out of your God damned mind?" He exclaimed. It was only the three of them in the kitchen now, Marie having left minutes ago likely although Juliette had only just noticed. She squirmed under Alphonse's judgmental gaze while Luke looked down in shame. "Have you no sense at all?"

Luke's cheeks blushed a light crimson, embarrassment. Juliette felt this emotion deeply as Alphonse tried to process all this information and looked just as confused as ever. It was if Juliette could plainly see the gears trying to turn in his brain that were clearly not working.

"Alphonse, I understand how this looks but trust me, it was in everyone's best interest that I accepted this job," He pleaded, looking at Alphonse with a look of sheer desperation. The older man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He rubbed his temples once more and took his glasses off, placing them on the table next to the uneaten bowl of stew.

Without saying another word to Luke, he began to eat his stew. He took his time, and the painfully slow swallows of the tiny spoonful's were excruciating for Luke and Juliette to watch. She tensed the second Alphonse finished his bowl and stared at the two. He steepled his fingers together, eyeing the two of them as if he were studying a subject for a painting. It was rather uncomfortable, and Juliette wanted it to stop immediately.

"What exactly are you wanting me to do with her?" He asked, and Juliette looked down in embarrassment. She had no clue what was even going on, she had merely woken up this morning and ended up here with two men she barely even knew. Her life felt like a blur, like it was moving much too fast and the events of the past couple of days were merely a distant memory.

"I have some business to take care of and she needs a place to stay," Luke blurted and Alphonse dropped his hands onto his lap, his jaw slack in shock. He lifted his left hand to brush back his straggly graying blonde hair, and eyed Luke with sheer suspicion and a hint of disbelief, or so Juliette interpreted his stare as.

"You want me to risk my home, the only thing I have left mind you, to watch over a girl while you run around Paris doing God knows what?" Alphonse put emphasis on each of his words, as if trying to make sense of all of this. Juliette could not blame him, but his words stung a bit even though that was likely not the old man's intention.

Luke sighed, running his hands down his face, looking even more tired than usual. "Listen, she'll be fine just make sure she stays away from all the windows and doesn't leave. She can keep Marie company, eh?" His last sentence was simply a suggestion, but Alphonse did not look as if he were even considering changing his mind.

"I'll think about it, but what are you even attempting to do?" Alphonse asked and before Luke could respond he held his hand up and added, "And tell me the truth if you want me to change my mind."

He went quiet and Juliette had a feeling she wasn't going to like this story either. "The night of Katrine and Robespierre's party, I was kidnapped and taken to some barn off Les Marais, and I was threatened into joining the Jacobin Club. I need to find Robespierre or someone in the Jacobin Club and get out of it."

Even though Luke probably skipped crucial details, Alphonse looked horrified. "I'll keep her here while you get everything sorted out."

~

Merely an hour later, Luke was perched outside the Versailles chateau a mere couple days after the revolt that led to the royal family being dragged back to Paris. He squatted down on the top of the roof, making sure he was unseen as numerous aristocratic nobles, who he knew for a fact were in the Jacobin Club, carried valuable furniture and artwork out of the place. He hopped down onto one of the balconies, expecting to seamlessly land gracefully but instead he fell and landed harshly on his right side. He hissed in pain, a burning sensation pulsating throughout his chest as the wind was taken from his lungs. He tried to sit up, quickly at first, before the pain intensified and caused him to lay on the ground, a crumpled mess.

The doors to the room that the balcony led to were thankfully closed, the drapes drawn shut. He knew it probably would not last as it was highly possible the ransackers hadn't made it to the room yet. Luke waited a few more minutes, before he slowly sat up and leaned against the railing with his back pressed against the wall of the exterior of the chateau. He took shallow breaths as the pain once again subsided momentarily, keeping his hand pressed against the right side of his rib cage where the pain predominantly was. He knew he was going to get busted the longer he sat out here, but he couldn't help it, he was in far too much pain to be able to move quick enough to escape. Luke only wanted to see what was going on and find the whereabouts of Robespierre, who he knew was deeply pissed at him.

He heard shuffling and the sound of voices on the other side of the double doors and his breath hitched, heartbeat quickening as he prayed silently to the God he didn't believe in that they didn't open the doors.

"What's Robespierre trying to do with all this stuff, eh?" a gruff voice spoke, and Luke could hear the movement of heavy furniture scraping against the floors. He cringed at the squeal of wooden furniture squeaking against the wood floors and the mutter of curses as the men on the other side likely tried and failed to move the heavy furniture.

"I can only presume an auction, we aren't doing all this work for nothing," the other voice replied before he swore loudly as something heavy thudded to the floor. Another set of footsteps was heard on the other side and Luke pressed himself further against the railing and wall as if he were a small human being invisible to the naked eye.

The two men who seemed to be having a conversation while moving the furniture stopped talking and Luke grew anxious. The footsteps stopped right outside the two doors and the men inside remained silent. "What the fuck is taking you two so long? This desk should've been moved ages ago." It was the voice of Robespierre and Luke's skin began to crawl and he instantly wanted to be struck down.

"We're sorry, sir, it appears to much heavier than we initially anticipated," one of the voices answered and Robespierre scoffed. Luke could perfectly envision him with his typical annoyed look upon his face, arms folded while he leaned against the door.

More shuffling was heard and finally the two men seemed to get the desk out of the room. "Ah, yes! I knew that desk couldn't have been that difficult to move!" Robespierre cheered. The two men seemed to leave the room and more footsteps were heard moments later. Luke became slightly confused, but he ignored it as he was thankful he hadn't been caught yet. As he had been doing for the past while, he kept quiet and waited.

He heard the shutting of a door and he had an inkling that the footsteps could've belonged to Gascon and Arno for a meeting with Robespierre. Things were silent for a few more moments, as if the men were in waiting that no one in the chateau could possibly hear them, arousing suspicion. Finally, someone cleared their throat. "You called us in here, monsieur?" Luke immediately recognized Gascon's voice and he shuddered.

"Ah, yes, I have a few questions for you," Robespierre began, "Firstly, any updates on the whereabouts of Luke Hemmings?"

Luke could envision, especially if Arno was the third man in the room, looking at each other in confusion. He admitted that he likely made things worse for himself by dodging the Jacobin Club at all costs after being forced into it, and he seemed to make things worse for Arno and Gascon as they were essentially Robespierre's henchmen. "Sir, no one in the Club has seen him in ages." Another voice responded, this one belonging to Arno. He heard Robespierre sigh heavily, probably pinching the bridge of his nose and silently counting to ten.

"Well, if someone could figure out where he is that would be magnificent. I know the loiter-sack isn't fucking dead," He snarled, and Luke rolled his eyes on the other side. It was in that moment that Arno suggested they open a window for some air that he threw open the balcony doors. Luke resisted the urge to wheeze as he curled up his legs, partially from the movement to continue to conceal himself and the fact one of the doors had slammed into his side.

"Arno, why isn't that door opening all of the way?" Robespierre inquired, and Luke's blood ran as cold as ice. He figured the men would ignore the fact that the door didn't open all the way to the balcony railing, but he was dead wrong.

"Perhaps there is a potted plant on the other side?" Gascon suggested and Robespierre scoffed.

"Arno, check behind the door," He ordered, and Luke wanted to curl up into a ball and die immediately. Arno walked closer to the door and Luke so desperately wanted to run, but he was in too much pain to do so.

He stepped out onto the balcony and closed the door and spotted Luke. A grin slowly spread across his face as he ran back inside. "Robespierre, I found Luke Hemmings!" He cheered excitedly.

Seconds later, Robespierre was standing in front of Luke with a wide smile upon his face. He looked smugly down upon the injured man, whose heart was rapidly beating inside his chest and making the dull throb in his rib cage worse. His arms were folded across his chest while he continued to look down at him, as if he was debating what to say to him. "Nice of you to finally show up, eh?"

"Fuck off," the injured man managed to spat, grimacing from the slight movement. Robespierre took note of this and his smug smile seemed to widen, giving him a maniacal look as if it wasn't clear enough that was going mad.

He tossed his head back and laughed, and it was in that moment that both Gascon and Arno stood on the balcony next to him. Luke felt small and insignificant, but it was the expression on Gascon's face that was rather peculiar, it was almost as if he was taking pity of all things on the man. His expression was kind of hard to read, but at the same time Luke knew that look, it was one some merchants gave him after wrestling with the fact of whether they should give him some food out of pity for the fact he had it much worse than the average citizen. Arno, however, looked relieved that he had found Luke as if it made his standing with Robespierre much better.

"Would you look at that, the fool injured himself!" Robespierre cackled, and Arno joined in, although his laugh sounded fake. He continued to laugh alongside Arno while Gascon remained silent, a hard set to his jaw. It was kind of strange how the man was behaving, but Robespierre didn't seem to notice in the slightest. "Quick, Gascon and Arno, load him into the carriage. It is high time he starts doing his club duties."

The two men obliged, hoisting the skinny man up while he howled in pain, the dull throb burning as if his ribs and side were being set on fire. Perhaps if he wasn't so malnourished and starving all the time, his ribs would not have broken that easily as the fall really wasn't that far. While he gritted his teeth and walked with assistance from Robespierre's henchmen, he noticed that just about everything in the chateau was gone, taken to some unknown location for unknown reasons. He wasn't quite sure how he would tell Juliette, after all, she was still a wreck from seeing her family being taken prisoner from their own home.

Gascon and Arno hoisted him down the steps at the front of the chateau, remarking about how light he was too carry albeit he was much too skinny. The carriage out front was massive, with two black stallions pulling it and the driver was the old cook from Alphonse's tavern. He refused to meet Luke's eyes, looking down in shame as Arno and Gascon shoved Luke into the carriage. He groaned from the pain as he straightened himself out in the carriage as the two men joined alongside him.

"Make sure he gets to that god damned meeting, or I'll have both of your heads," Robespierre hissed, peering into the side of the carriage before stalking back inside the chateau.

At that moment, Gascon poked his head out the window of the carriage before barking something at the driver. Once his head was back inside, the carriage began to move and that's when Luke's motion sickness began to set in almost immediately.

"You pathetic fool," Arno murmured, shaking his head in annoyance.


	15. quinze.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the Jacobin Club meeting does not go as planned...

The carriage ride was bumpy, and Luke didn't dare peer out the window in fear of more pain from his injured ribcage or spewing chunks out the window. This was way worse than riding in the cart that night after the gala at the chateau, the carriage was moving much faster and his mind felt hazy. Motion sickness was the absolute worst, and he felt mortified at the thought of puking in front of two men who could easily kill him and were likely already leading him to his death. His heart pounded in his chest, sweat breaking out across his brow as his stomach turned in knots. The pain in his side had subsided a little bit, replaced with a comforting feeling of numbness as if his body had just gotten used to the former burning sensation. 

"What the hell were you even doing here?" Gascon cocked an eyebrow, his arms folded in front of his chest. Luke ignored him, biting the inside of his cheek and choosing to instead focus on the interior of the carriage as his stomach continued to feel nauseated. 

With a roll of his eyes, Arno responded to Gascon for Luke. "Remember, he has motion sickness and got sick in that cart, do you recall?" Gascon scoffed and stared at Luke with an intrigued expression. Luke continued to become extremely confused with Gascon's actions today and began wondering if the man was truly loyal to Robespierre. 

All of the men remained silent the remainder of the ride, and Luke was relieved when the carriage finally stopped. Ignoring the pain in his side, the gnawing pain back due to his movement, he flung himself out the carriage and immediately retched on the city street. Arno and Gascon made disgusted noises behind him, but he continued to ignore the two men as he continued to puke. He finally stopped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, ruining the already tattered and practically destroyed white shirt from the night of the gala. 

He stood up, slowly, and clutching his side. Luke faced the two men he hated most before he noticed they were somewhere in Les Marais, one of the nicest parts of Paris. Despite the fact the majority of France was exceedingly poor and starving, aristocratic families wandered the streets in their fabulous garments of wide ball gowns and prim pressed coats and trousers and entered restaurants and shops as if their money was never running out. Worry churned in his stomach as Arno and Gascon gripped either arm, and shoved him towards a bar that was filled to the brim with patrons eating to their hearts content and scarfing down one alcoholic beverage after another. Luke wrinkled his nose, trying to ignore the pain in his side as the two men practically dragged him to the back where a rather large table was set up. Every chair was filled with the exception of three, and the empty chairs were seated right next to Robespierre who gave Luke a smug smile. 

"We stalled as long we could to make sure you were here before us," Arno admitted, taking a seat to the left side of the table as Robespierre sat at the head. Robespierre ignored Arno's attempts at sucking up as Gascon moved Luke to the right side of the table before shoving him a little too harshly into the chair. Luke wheezed, the breath quite literally being sucked out of his lungs and the gnawing, burning sensation appearing again. 

Gascon sat next to him and everyone at the table had ceased their conversation to gawk at the disheveled man. Luke was once again in dire need of a bath, his hair was matted and greasy and dirt was caked heavily under his nails and his clothes were atrociously disgusting. He felt out of place and wanted to get up and run, but his injury hindered him from doing so. Robespierre continued to stare at Luke, with that same smug grin upon his face. 

"Ah, welcome back to the Jacobin Club, you've been neglecting your duties," Robespierre smiled even wider and Luke's skin began to crawl. He felt disgusting inside and out. He was so incredibly lucky that Alphonse agreed to house Juliette because Luke was quite positive it would be awhile before he was able to be let out of Robespierre's sights. He supposed it was his own doing, but he needed that job more than anything because it allowed him to have a place to lay his head every night, with food on the table each evening, and a place to bathe. 

"Sorry, sir," Luke murmured, deciding to play Arno's game and suck up. Robespierre looked surprised, and Luke himself was surprised at his own actions, but he needed to survive. He promised Marie and Louis he would keep their daughter safe, and he couldn't do that if Robespierre was busy parading around Paris with Luke's head on a pike. 

Robespierre regained composure, adjusting his waist coat as he cleared his throat. Conversation had already ceased, but their heads immediately snapped from Luke to Robespierre almost instantly. It was rather alarming how quick their attention was enamored by something else, and it made Luke feel as if the entire group was somehow hypnotized by the obviously insane man. Once upon a time, Luke used to think he had a way with words, but now, it was simply propaganda that made absolutely no sense and resembled gibberish more than eloquently worded sentences. 

"The items salvaged from the Versailles chateau are being used in an auction, with the royal paintings being burned of course," Robespierre waved his hand dismissively, talking about countless other things Luke had no clue about. He felt extremely uncomfortable watching the other men seated at the table listen intently, hanging onto every single word that uttered from Robespierre's lips. To his right, Luke noticed that Gascon was tensed for unknown reasons, but he wasn't quite sure that Robespierre knew that. The man was too busy charming the trousers off the men seated at the table. 

Finally, a server approached the table carrying platters of magnificent foods and all of the men surrounding him began to feast. The pain from his ribs made him nauseated, regardless of the fact that it had been a while since he'd last eaten. While everyone else around him continued to eat, he chose to stare at his lap, and thankfully no one said anything to him about it. Gascon scooped some meat onto Luke's plate, saying nothing before he dug into his own food. At the head of the table, Robespierre narrowed his eyes at Gascon in suspicion. 

"Now, why, my dear Gascon, would you feed the filth sitting at our table?" He immediately began grilling the man and yet again, all conversation at the table ceased. Everyone was staring between Gascon and Robespierre, with their gazes occasionally flitting to Luke. Gascon kept his composure, maintaining a cool and unbothered expression while Robespierre gripped his fork so hard his knuckles were beginning to turn white. 

"Robespierre, my friend, how would he be of use to us if not only is he injured, but he's also malnourished and dead from starvation?" Gascon flashed Robespierre a smile, but it didn't seem as if Robespierre was buying it. The smile was clearly fake, one most of the higher classes uses to keep social niceties quick and to the point, simply saving face during public interactions. Granted most in the Club were from a higher class, it was amazing that Robespierre had not caught on to Gascon's strange affliction with Luke earlier in the evening. Luke was feeling weirded out by Gascon's behavior, and it was becoming evident that everyone else seated at the table was beginning to feel the same way. 

Robespierre tightened his jaw, continuing to grip his fork and stare at the man. He continued to not speak and everyone watched, with bated breath, awaiting intently on Robespierre's next action. Gascon still kept his composure, and to say the least, Luke was impressed at the man's remarkable ability to keep his cool. It ended up becoming an intense staring contest, everyone perched on the edges of their seats, waiting. Finally, he spoke, but his tone was terse, to the point with a bit of an agitated edge to it, "I want you out of my fucking sight, right now."

There were a few gasps at the table, and even Gascon himself was shocked. In all honesty, Luke wasn't as shocked as everyone else, he knew from Robespierre's body language that he wasn't having Gascon's strange behavior. Earlier, it seemed as if Robespierre was too caught up in the fact Luke was finally caught avoiding Jacobin Club duties, but now, he was picking up on Gascon's actions and words, everything seeming to finally register in his mind. Gascon said nothing more as he stood up from the table, pushing his chair in before nodding at the men. Before he could leave, Robespierre took a revolver out of his waistcoat, and fired a bullet into the back of Gascon's head.

Gascon's body collapsed to the ground, a bloody pool surrounding his head and every man at the table looked visibly uncomfortable. Robespierre said nothing. He tucked the revolver back into his waistcoat and went back to eating, ignoring everyone's stares. Luke had had enough, he wanted to leave and head back to Alphonse's right at this very moment. Patrons in the establishment screamed and ran out the doors, while everyone seated at the table was terrified to even consider leaving. Taking a deep breath, Luke braced himself for the pain to erupt in his chest as he pushed back his chair.

Robespierre looked up and smiled, it eerily resembled the same fake smile Gascon had given Robespierre minutes prior, and Luke's blood ran cold, a shiver running down his spine. "Oh, my friend, you aren't going anywhere."

Luke gulped, scooting his chair closer to the table, staring at the full plate of food. The food Gascon had scooped onto his plate. He was alarmed at the fact Gascon's lifeless body just sat on the ground, and not one person dared to do anything about it. Who would tell Katrine Gascon had been shot by her own husband? Surely someone would bother speaking up about it, right? And to think that Gascon died because he was nice to Luke, and Luke was too uncomfortable to even repay him for his kindness. Now, he was left feeling guilty, wanting to puke his guts out and run as far away from Robespierre as he possibly could.

After Robespierre had finished eating, he smiled at even sitting at the table. He clasped his hands together, awaiting someone to speak. Finally, someone did, someone that Luke immediately recognized. The two men made eye contact, and Luke wanted to get out of his chair and punch the man in the throat. Jacques-Louis David was a vile man for even befriending Robespierre and supporting his so-called 'cause'. "I would like to lead the auction, considering the royals did have one of my paintings forbidden for being hung, not to mention my expertise in art, is that alright?" He spoke calmly, his underlying tone coming across as if he was treating Robespierre like a fragile child.

"Why, of course, my friend!" Robespierre exclaimed, beaming at his friend. A few of the other men, Luke included, squirmed in their seats feeling uncomfortable by the exchange. Robespierre and Jacques ignored them all, continuing to discuss who would help out with the auction among other things. It was uncomfortable knowing a dead man laid on the floor a few feet away, and not a single person did something about it.

It must've been approximately an hour later that the meeting ended. One by one the men got up and left the establishment, casting solemn looks down at Gascon's dead body as they walked out the doors. A few minutes later, Luke and Robespierre were the only two men there. They both stared at each other, an uncomfortable silence filling the air.

As usual, Robespierre was the first to speak. "You are coming home with me, I don't trust you on your own." He had his hands clasped together on the table, back straight, a hard look upon his face. Luke said nothing, choosing to stare at Gascon's lifeless body rather than stare at the man who mercilessly shot him for no reason. "Forget about him, he was a traitorous bastard."

Luke still didn't look at him, even when he spoke. "He did nothing," He murmured, hoping Robespierre couldn't hear him, but he did. He lips were pressed into a firm line as he stared at the malnourished man, a dark look in his eyes. Luke's skin crawled from the demented expression Robespierre had, wondering if he was next to be mercilessly shot.

"I will dispose of the body, and you will say nothing to Katrine or I will kill you," He finally spoke, ignoring Luke's previous statement. Luke nodded, choosing to not open his mouth before something else he would regret saying was blurted. He needed to play into Robespierre's game, act like he was an accomplice and then bring down the Jacobin Club from the inside before more anarchy could wreak havoc on France.

No matter what it took, he was going to make Robespierre pay.


End file.
